The Shomin Experience
by sakuraichigo
Summary: Mori is fully aware, Kyouya is coming to terms and the King is, as usual, delusional. It's a subtle struggle for the heart of Haruhi. Who will it be?
1. The Impeccable Plan

Another Ouran fic that, at the moment, has no ending in sight. This is the first installment of an _x_ number of chapters which will hopefully not escalate to ridiculous proportions since it's centered around a single event and perhaps a short time after it, depending. If it does, I hope it's exciting enough and does not turn out to be The Day of Our Ouran Lives. Urg.

As yet, there is no definite pairing, although there will be one at some point or hints of one. Maybe more. O.o'

This is set before Kyouya announces Haruhi's debtless status in Episode 26. At this point, I'm guided mostly by the anime.

Usual disclaimer applies. _Shomin_ means commoner (in case you were wondering).

* * *

**Chapter 1 // The Impeccable Plan**

There were a precious few things Fujioka Haruhi enjoyed doing which did not include the denizens of the accursed Host Club to which she was indebted. On any given day, when there was free time to be had, post-housekeeping and studying, she would retrieve her mother's recipes that were stored on the shelf beneath the shrine. The precious slips of paper were then removed carefully from the thick waterproof folder, each individually wrapped with a thin piece of plastic to retain integrity. Haruhi had decided, after accruing that 8 million yen debt, that she was not going to take any chances. Then, she would sit in the hall safely mulling over the recipes, trying to improve them or add to the already prolific repertoire.

Haruhi was brilliant in the kitchen according to her father. He had loved his wife's cooking and it was only natural that he consumed the fruits of his daughter's culinary efforts with great relish. She was Fujioka Kotoko and more. Her extended Host Club family had had the privilege of partaking Haruhi's cooking during their first visit, much to the delight of one Suou Tamaki, and had stopped by on more than one occasion for seconds.

Today, however, was a _special_ day, if one could call it that. Haruhi was decidedly more reserved about it since the Host Club, including the troublesome Tamaki-senpai, was going to be in attendance this evening at 6pm. She sincerely hoped he would stay out of the linen closet. It had taken her a whole week to remove the funky smell of mould and mushrooms that clung to her bedding the last time.

She would have begged off under normal circumstances and requested that they visit someone else's home or some other exotic locale instead. However, it was Tamaki's birthday and Ootori Kyouya had dangled the reduction of her debt by a fifth for tonight like the proverbial carrot since the King had intimated that he would _absolutely love_ a commoner's birthday party with only the Host Club in attendance. He had pleaded with Kyouya to convince Haruhi that she _had_ to host it at her home for the purpose of complete authenticity. She would have done it solely to please Tamaki since it was his birthday, but Kyouya-senpai had offered another incentive and she had decided that she would be out of her mind to refuse it since her debt did not seem to be diminishing significantly. It was probably due to the costume rentals and occasional accidents she had had which made her feel like she was working to pay off a non-existent interest.

Therefore, Haruhi arose this morning with a sense of foreboding and had reminded her father once more before he left for work that there was an event that night and under no circumstances should he crush Tamaki-senpai underfoot like a detestable bug. She would do it herself if it was required. However, she _was_ feeling rather charitable this morning, with the cool weather and sun shining brilliantly which meant a nice comfortable walk to the café and then the supermarket where she was to meet both Morinozuka Takashi and Haninozuka Mitsukuni. She had planned a four-course menu, which was much less troublesome than an outdoor barbeque and would bake the birthday cake, much to Hani's delight.

The plan that had been outlined for today, according to Kyouya, was relatively simple. Haruhi, along with Mori and Hani, would meet at the supermarket to purchase the groceries required before returning back to her home. Kyouya would retrieve the decorations his sister, Fuyumi, had graciously prepared because was "Tamaki not Kyouya-san's best friend after all?" and would deliver them an hour past noon. He would then assist with the décor before escorting Tamaki, who had decided to take public transportation to Haruhi's so that he would be in perfect _shomin_ mood, to ensure that he did not unwittingly wander astray. The Hitachiin twins, Hikaru and Kaoru, would then arrive promptly two hours before Tamaki was scheduled to appear, with the cutest outfit for Haruhi so that Tono would be suitably gratified. It was the perfect arrangement, brought about with the aid of finances from the Host Club funds since the cost was relatively low compared to last year's party where Tamaki had insisted on a Thai theme, including a parade with the Host Club riding in on luxuriously bedecked elephants. Kyouya had been exceedingly relieved when their regular customers had paid good money for tickets to the event, otherwise the club's funds would have halved the moment payment cheques were cashed in.

The Shadow King, in a rare display of monetary kindness, had given her a ridiculous sum of money for grocery shopping. He had also insisted that she partake of a decent breakfast, although she wondered what breakfast it was that he had in mind with her purse bulging with notes. Airflown strawberries, cream and perhaps the odd Australian cow for fresh milk perhaps, served on a gold platter? _Those rich bastards_, she thought. Even practical Kyouya was not exempt from such ludicrous behaviour. But, Haruhi was ultimately a true _shomin_ while the others played at being one on occasion. She did, however, appreciate the roll of notes in her slingbag as it gave delightful cushioned thumps on her thigh as she walked. This, she believed, was her only chance at decadent grocery shopping, where specials and discount coupons would not feature and she would seize her opportunity with gusto.

She grinned to no one in particular as she marched rather happily down the street. It was going to be a really good day.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

A practically dialogue-less introductory chapter. It's really there to frame the entire story. I had to provide a decent setting as well as establish where the characters are at -- obviously I'm trying to keep to Bisco's characterisation as much as possible. 

I trust it wasn't too slow moving for you. I tried to keep it succinct, with enough details to whet the appetite. Even I have no idea what's going to happen in Chapter 2 (!!).

Also, I hope you enjoyed it. Do give me your comments as they really inspire me in writing. Feel free to suggest your favourite pairing(s) -- not a yaoi fan though, so you can forget about those (I don't mind reading them, but writing them is MOE-overload for me). I can't say I will cater to your suggestion as it depends on how the story develops, but I'd like to know what you enjoy as well.


	2. Breakfast at Tsuichii's

It's funny how stories evolve sometimes, almost out of your control. I really enjoyed writing this chapter.

Author notes about the story after the chapter.

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**Chapter 2 // Breakfast at Tsuichii's**

Haruhi glanced at her watch. She was at least half an hour early. She had left her apartment half an hour before and made her way on foot to the nearest supermarket, with the full intention of taking a leisurely hour-long stroll and arriving promptly at 9am. Her good spirits and the spring in her step, however, had brought her to town rather speedily. At least, much faster than she had anticipated.

She tipped her head back and enjoyed the breeze for a moment, pondering her options before the aroma of pan-fried sausages and fresh brewed coffee assaulted her senses. _Well, Kyouya-senpai did say that I should 'partake' of breakfast,_ she mused as she meandered towards the origin of the delicious scent.

Café des Tsuichii was an overtly French affair, a thriving bistro tucked cosily into the corner at the juncture of two streets and operated by Yanagi Tsuichii, a local who had been to France all but once. For two weeks. He was known in culinary circles as Pierre, the daredevil "Frenchman" who had invested all his savings in his venture against familial protest. Fortunately, Pierre's eccentricities made up for the risk. The bistro was thriving.

Its appeal was the open-air terrace where ornate wrought iron tables and chairs had been set up beneath a light avant-garde shade sail in pale periwinkle. Haruhi had been drawn to the café more than once by virtue of her olfactory senses. She had strolled by wishing that she could sample the delights from its pricey menu, but unfortunately even a beverage at the classy joint would cost her two full meals, home cooked, for both her father and herself.

Today, however, she could sample Pierre's culinary delights with abandon. She took a tentative step towards the bistro's entrance.

"Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!"

She blinked. That voice. Was. Incredibly. _Familiar_.

"Oh Daddy has missed you so much, Haruhi! How has my beloved daughter been? Has she missed me? Has she? Has she???"

Tamaki-senpai. Only Tamaki-senpai would completely abandon presence of mind in order to hug her tightly in broad daylight, at the entrance of a very classy bistro she had never been to in her entire life. Was he rubbing his cheek affectionately against hers?

She extricated herself from his embrace gingerly, much to his disappointment. "Tamaki-_senpai_, what are you doing here?" She glared at him accusingly, as if challenging him to provide her with a less than honest answer.

Tamaki pouted, tapping the tips of his forefingers against one another, eyes shimmering in the morning sunlight, eyelids flapping furiously. "It's my birthday," he whined, strangely resembling his pet, Antoinette, right that instant. "You mean I can't go where I want during my birthday? Not even for a bit of breakfast at my _favourite_ shomin French bistro?"

Haruhi exhaled slowly. "You could have breakfast at a far better restaurant, I'm sure. It's unusual to see you around these parts when you aren't at my apartment. And you haven't answered my question either, senpai."

"It'smybirthdaycan'tyouevenusemynamejustfortodayinsteadofsenpaiiiiii…"

"Oui, and who might this delightful young lady be, Tamaki-san?"

Haruhi frowned and was about to berate the rude little twit who had eavesdropped _and_ interrupted their conversation without batting an eyelid when her vision was quite literally assaulted with a blue, red and white _confection_ crowned with a beret and sporting a ridiculous handlebar moustache. Her eyes widened with surprise and she blinked hard. Perhaps it was an illusion that managing Tamaki-senpai in the morning had wrought in her tortured noggin.

It was not.

"Ah, Pierre, this is Haruhi, my delightful daughter," Tamaki bowed and smiled brilliantly, eyes twinkling.

Haruhi snorted and turned towards Pierre, almost apologetically. "Ah… he's not my father, obviously. Just my delusional _senpai_ from _school_."

Pierre dimpled pleasantly, tugged his striped vest sharply and fluffed the nest of ruffles at his throat. "Enchante, madam," he bowed and took her hand, then kissed it gently. Tamaki gasped and grabbed Pierre by the shoulders, twirled him around and shoved him back into the bistro. "I believe you will be breakfasting with Tamaki-san."

"Yes she is! Nothing but the best for my daughter. Whatever she wants, Pierre, she must have. Deny her nothing! Including that delightful beret if she so wishes. Isn't that right, my darling Haruhi?" he grasped her hand and stroked it. "Father will get you the stars in the sky and the moon if you so desire. Nothing is worthy of your magnificent splendour!"

_They're both delusional. Since when do I look like a madam? Aren't I supposed to be a madamoiselle? Why would I want a beret? Hmm… that beret would look better on Hikaru and Kaoru actually. Maybe I should ask for it. What am I thinking? These people are nuts. It must be something to do with being French,_ she thought as she rolled her eyes, far too exhausted to resist. "There aren't any stars nor is the moon out, _senpai_."

"Whywon'tyoucallmeTamakilikeKyouyadoesjustfortodaymydaughter'ssucha… _meanie_!"

Their eccentric host had sat them outdoors and Tamaki was ensconced in his gloomy little world, tracing the ornate patterns of swirls on the table. She sighed as she watched him, lips twitching. He blinked at her imploringly.

"Oh alright, _Tamaki_. There. Happy now?"

Tamaki lunged across the table, almost upsetting it in his exuberant enthusiasm, and smothered her in a mammoth hug, once again nuzzling her cheek vigorously with his.

"Hey, hey." She pushed him aside gently after a minute or two. "That's enough Tamaki. I've got to meet Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai in twenty minutes." She picked up the menu and ordered _Ze Breakfast Special_. There was something akin to absurdity that the place appeared to indulged in. The menu appeared faux French, with long convoluted names for the simplest of fare. Everything was excessively coordinated in three colours and the décor consisted of bread loaves that appeared to have been artfully strewn by none other than Pierre himself. Thankfully, the rest of the wait staff were rather sane and did not speak with mock French accents.

It came as no surprise that Tamaki loved it. Pierre was incredibly solicitous and hovered frequently around their table much to Haruhi's chagrin. He was flamboyant and expressive to the point of excess. _If they were peas, they'd come from the same pod_, she thought as she munched on the scrambled egg and baguette that she had ordered, observing the animated conversation between the two. She had no idea what they were talking about since they were speaking in French and far too rapidly for her to decipher much except Pierre's nods and copious _oui_s.

Tamaki must have said something as she was sipping from her glass of orange juice because Pierre glanced at her and beamed, elbowing her senpai familiarly, causing him to flush a pleasant pink. She almost sputtered, but managed to manoeuvre the juice away from her windpipe as Tamaki smiled tenderly at her.

_What's that look for? What does he want? Do I have something on my chin? Scrambled egg?_ She dabbed at her lips with the napkin, which caused Tamaki, who was watching, to turn a deeper shade of red. Puzzled, she excused herself and ambled to the bathroom to check on her state of dress. Just in case.

It would not do her nor Mori and Hani any good if she had something on backwards or crumbs all over the front of her dress. Imagine the embarrassment, at least on her part, to be found feeding the resident avians while she walked. Even though Haruhi was a commoner, she did have some sense of pride in being well-presented. She dusted herself and twisted this way and that in front of the large bathroom mirror to ensure that her bike shorts beneath her skirt was not displayed for all and sundry.

Her father had insisted she wear the sunny yellow dress last night but his practical daughter had protested vehemently to wearing something so impractical for a trip to the supermarket. He had whined and she had given in, insisting that she would put on a pair of shorts beneath it to preserve her modesty, much to Ranka's horror. Satisfied with her appearance, she brushed her fingers through her hair, patted it and pinned the fringe with the little green barrette that Hikaru had given her "just because".

She nodded at her reflection and returned to her seat, where Tamaki was waiting patiently. "There you are my darling daughter!" he beamed, eyes alight. "I have settled the little inconvenience that is the bill and you are free to meet Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai with just a few minutes to spare."

"But I have money from Kyouya-senpai for the…"

"No, no, _no_, sweet Haruhi! It is my pleasure. After all, you _are_ doing so much…" he paused dramatically, capturing her hand in his and her eyes with a deliciously cheeky wink, "_just for me_."

_My, isn't he thick skinned_.

Her mobile phone beeped. _Ah, saved by the bell, quite literally_.

She removed her hand as carefully as possible and pulled out her phone, reading the short text message from Mori. _Here waiting_, it said.

"Ah, Tamaki-sen…" she cleared her throat. "Err… Tamaki. Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai are waiting for me. I have to go." She sipped the last of her orange juice, for up and and waved to Pierre, who, despite being quite excessive, was rather endearing.

Tamaki grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Later, my darling daughter!"

She shook her head in disbelief, shrugged at Pierre and strode down the street in the direction of the supermarket.

Pierre slithered up to their table. "Quite the enchanting lady, isn't she?"

"Yes she is," murmured the enamoured Tamaki as he watched the spot of yellow disappear around the corner, "quite the lady." _The love of my life_.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

I must confess that I don't know that much about French culture, so what I've written here may not be accurate, but instead is a parody of what the French culture is usually perceived to be. I hope it came across ludicrous enough.

There are a few bits and pieces that I've weaved into the story that may not be apparent initially. I hope to surprise all of you later on with some interesting details.

Tamaki, here, is somewhat aware of his feelings for Haruhi, although bear in mind that he tends to exaggerate a lot.

I had planned for Haruhi to meet Mori and Hani early, but felt that the setting would be perfect for Tamaki instead.

Hope you enjoyed it. The eventual pairing can still move in any direction. Except Pierre's. Obviously.


	3. The Bright Shadow Amid the Aisles

I've been incredibly inspired. XP

Edit: Some minor things tidied up because I'm a perfectionist.

* * *

**Chapter 3 // The Bright Shadow Amid the Aisles**

"Ehhhhh???"

"Good morning, Haruhi."

"Kyouya-senpai? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to pick up the decorations from Fuyumi-san?"

Kyouya pushed his drooping glasses up the bridge of his nose. It slid in place perfectly, further accentuating the economy of his action and the perfectly aristocratic feature. "Hani-senpai had to assist his father in training the Private Police today on short notice, so I am here in his stead," he inclined his head precisely. "Is that a problem?"

Haruhi retreated and raised her hands placatingly. "Oh no, not at all. I was just surprised… that's… all. Ah. Yes." Kyouya smiled coolly as the morning sunlight gleamed off the metal frame of his glasses. _I'd better not offend him or it'll cost me_.

"Indeed it would. Quite a lot in fact," he remarked, reading her mind.

It took an immense quantity of sheer willpower to keep from flinching. She turned to the other in attendance, who was waiting patiently, leaning against the glass panel of the supermarket. "Morning Mori-senpai," she chirped a little too happily, glad for the option of alternative companionship should she require it. She glanced at Kyouya who appeared to be deep in thought, his eyes focused on her. It was disturbing.

She just might need Mori-senpai for refuge.

"Ah. Morning," he placed a hand on her head and smiled warmly, eyes crinkling.

"Have you got your shopping list, Haruhi? We have no time to waste. I am sure you would not want to prepare tonight's meal in haste."

"Yes, senpai," she drawled daringly and handed Mori a list. "Mori-senpai, some of the things are on the high shelves and I'll have some problems getting them, so I wrote them here. Could you help me with these?"

Mori nodded earnestly.

She grinned. "Thank you."

She fingered the other list in her hands. _Oh I wish Hani-senpai was here right now_, she thought as she glanced at Kyouya out of the corner of her eye. He looked as formidable as usual, especially when he was all business. She cleared her throat. "Well, Kyouya-senpai, you'll just have to come with me, since you're Hani-senpai's replacement," she hedged a little sheepishly and grabbed his elbow.

"Mori-senpai, the super isn't that large, so you can hunt for us after you're done. I've got the longer list, but I know this place better so we should be done about the same time."

Mori nodded again and wandered into the supermarket. He was soon lost between the tall shelves.

"Kyouya-senpai?" She tugged at his elbow. "Didn't you say that we should make full use of our time? Let's get going."

He blinked.

"Kyouya-senpai?" she frowned, peering at him in apprehension. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, yes," he blinked again and smiled nonchalantly at the girl by his side. "I was merely caught off guard by your foresight in preparing two lists. Quite remarkable."

"You aren't the only one who thinks ahead, Kyouya-senpai." She glanced at the list, her hand still clutching his elbow. "First stop, frozen meats. What would you like?"

"I am rather partial to beef."

Kyouya marvelled at the way she was bossing him around the aisles, steering him away from the carts and the occasional errant child while he carried the green plastic shopping basket, all with the aid of her hand on his arm. It was fascinating. She certainly was a capable woman.

Haruhi was doing such an admirable job selecting the items and placing them in the basket that he relaxed and allowed himself to be guided around, observing her every move. He smirked when she chewed on her bottom lip pondering over the selection of pickled relishes and pointed to the jar of spiced radish by way of a suggestion. And she had picked it up without hesitation and plopped it in the basket.

He was reluctant to inform her, rather politely, that it was turning out to be _his_ birthday party instead of Tamaki's. However, Tamaki, with his audacious capacity for sampling anything remotely _shomin_, would try anything. So bringing it up was moot. He had also conveniently neglected to inform her that he was very familiar with this supermarket for a variety of reasons and knew where most things were shelved. Being led around was therefore completely unnecessary. That being said, it was a luxury he could indulge in right this instant, without the looming shadow and intense scrutiny of his father.

"Kyouya?"

He was snapped out of his passive reverie by Haruhi, who had turned to gaze at him, with large doe-like brown eyes by the ice cream freezer. "I'm spoilt for choice. What should we get?"

The supermarket had an excellent selection of ice creams and various desserts which were of reasonable quality, although far from the exhorbitant and sinfully creamy ones he favoured at home. "Whatever you want, Haruhi. Most of it looks good to me."

"Really?"

"Yes," he pointed at a small tub. "That's one of the better choices though, brand-wise. Rich in flavour and creamy in texture."

Those eyes were gazing at him again, this time in astonishment. _They certainly are expressive. And you wonder how on earth I know what it is you're thinking_. "I never imagined that you were partial to ice cream and creamy ones too." She peered at the price tag attached to the shelf. "But that's a ridiculous price for such a small volume."

He opened the freezer and placed five large tubs into the trolley that he had picked up en route to the desserts then closed the door with relish.

She gasped. "Now that's more economical, but still a _ridiculous price for such a small volume_."

"Your point was noted, Haruhi."

"But cleverly ignored?"

He smiled. He had a sneaking suspicion than she knew more about him that she let on, beyond the motivations behind his actions. "There is nothing better than delicious dessert after a good meal with friends. Besides, we aren't really on a budget."

"Yes we are!" she insisted stubbornly then tiptoed to whisper in his ear. "Even though I have a lot of money in my purse, it's still a budget!"

Trust Haruhi to be cautious about robbery in a supermarket with Ootori Kyouya by her side. If he was Tamaki, he would have been stung at the lack of confidence in his capability to protect her, but it was Haruhi after all. The stubborn, impossibly practical Haruhi. He tugged her along by the wrist as she was performing mental calculations with the occasional aid from her fingers. "Believe me, Haruhi, we _can_ afford this." He leaned closer and murmured conspiratorially in her ear, "I sneaked some really large notes in there."

He watched her eyes widen and chuckled inwardly in amusement. His face betrayed nothing, Haruhi noting that he had a little suspicious twinkle in his eye. It might have been the light reflecting off his glasses, however.

They made a beeline for the registers after meeting Mori on the way with his large trolley of mostly condiments and ingredients. Haruhi spied a large pack of sugar, double in size in comparison to her specifications on the list. _No doubt for Hani-senpai_, she thought with mirth.

"Oh! I forgot something. I wanted to grab some napkins. There probably isn't enough at home. I'll be right back."

She jogged towards the back of the premises, wanting to make sure she arrived back at the register in time so that the customers who were behind them would not have to bear the inconvenience of her forgetfulness. She turned sharply at the aisle and spotted the last jumbo pack of napkins on the high shelf.

"Mori-senpai would be great right about now," she muttered tiptoeing and hopping gently, using her fingertips in an attempt to snag the corner of the plastic it was wrapped in.

To her horror, the shelf tipped over almost in slow-motion. Haruhi, unfortunately, was too stunned to react as she watched the cascade of plastic partyware tumble off the edge.

"Uh oh."

She closed her eyes and braced herself for impact, but none came. Instead, she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist and she tucked her head against his shoulder instinctively as her hero blocked the shower of utensils with his body. _Ah, Mori-senpai can always be counted on to save me when I get myself into such situations._

Haruhi opened her eyes gingerly as soon as the sounds of merchandise hitting the floor had faded. Her rescuer still had his arms around her tightly. He was clutching her rather securely, she realised.

"Do _not…_ _ever…_ do something like that again, Haruhi."

She head snapped up in surprise.

"Kyou… ya?"

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Tell me you didn't see that one coming. XD

I'll leave you to figure out the reasons why Kyouya's so familiar with the supermarket. Revealed later, of course.

Characterisation-wise, I hope Kyouya came across as Bisco intended. It's strange that I've always imagined Kyouya speaking without contractions unless he's in a very comfortable environment. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether there's a change in speech pattern and why it occurs if it does.

And yes, there is an oxymoron in the chapter title, fully intended.

Hope you enjoyed it. It's fun writing. X3


	4. A Pinch of Pain

This chapter is slightly shorter. It was either that or a really long chapter with two main ideas, which isn't ideal.**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4 // A Pinch of Pain**

Haruhi gasped. "Kyou… ya?"

She clutched at his upper arm and he winced. "Why'd you do that? Are you okay?"

Kyouya's eyes gleamed in irritation and he adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "That was extremely troublesome, Haruhi. And no, I am not _okay_. In fact, I probably acquired some bruises while trying to save you from your moment of folly."

"I didn't ask you to! I could've handled it by myself!" she snapped, glaring at him defiantly. What, he was blaming _her_ now?

He stared back without batting an eyelid. "And how could you have done that? Last I saw, you were completely immobile. You could have been hurt badly. It is my responsibility to ensure that nothing untoward happens to you, both for the sake of the Host Club and your father."

She continued glowering until he broke eye contact to make a quick apology to the management who had gathered to assess the situation and to reprimand them about the instability of their fixtures.

_I can't believe they're apologising to him now,_ she thought as she grabbed the bundle of napkins and Kyouya's wrist and set off to pay for the goods. But Haruhi did not expect anything less from the capable third son. "I get your point, Kyouya," she sighed. "Let's go home and get you fixed up."

-----

"I said, Haruhi, there is no need to fuss over me. I am quite capable of looking after myself."

"I'm not fussing. I'm just concerned. It would be plain stupid to leave those bruises alone."

It was the first time that someone apart from his father had insulted Ootori Kyouya upfront without preamble. Granted, _it_ could very well refer to the notion of leaving his bruises alone until they healed, which he was decidedly in favour of. However, with Haruhi's intellect and his acute observation skills, she might as well have said that _he_ was stupid.

They were standing in her kitchen, putting away some of the groceries while Mori began the task of slicing the beef and vegetables in preparation for that night's dinner. He had wisely chosen to stay out of the matter, opting instead to observe the situation from a safe distance. Kyouya and Haruhi rarely went this far in arguing, the latter more often than not opting to acquiesce to whatever the Shadow King decreed for fear of landing even in greater debt.

"It was just as stupid to stand there like a deer caught in the headlights."

It was civilised bickering at its finest, without sparing any thought for possible repercussions. It was distinctly out of character for both.

Haruhi, Mori decided as he watched her eyes narrow into little slits, was rather fetching in her sunny yellow dress and was adorable even when she was angry. He filed the mental image for another time and returned to his work with a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. He was willing to bet that the girl would get her way in this case. She was strangely compelling and Kyouya, he knew, was beginning to allow her some liberties that he would otherwise never have in the past.

"So… you're admitting your stupidity then," she deadpanned, eyes twinkling.

Kyouya paused, stared, then laughed. "You got me."

She grinned. Spending time with Kyouya was never dull, she grudgingly admitted. Especially when he was behaving like a stubborn child. She grabbed his hand. "We're going to do something about your injuries."

"For the umpteeth time…"

"I suggest you agree," Mori interjected dryly. "We'd never get anything done otherwise."

Kyouya sighed. Mori-senpai was right. Haruhi could be extremely stubborn. He relented and allowed himself to be led to the living room.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?"

She sighed. "I said, take off your shirt."

It was a shame, Kyouya thought, that the girl who had just demanded that he strip his shirt off had more noble intentions than an ardent romp in the hay. If she was going to be so asinine about the entire thing, he was certainly not going to make it _that_ easy for her. He gazed into her eyes, a sly smile teasing the corners of his lips. "You, Haruhi," he purred, "can do the honours."

As if she was expecting this turn of events, Haruhi, rather unfazed, walked up to Kyouya and began to unbutton his shirt as if it was the most normal thing in the world to undress him. "Hmm, this is a nice shirt." She fingered the material of the collar, caressing the light white and blue cotton-linen blend. Her fingers brushed against the skin of his throat as she did so and he suppressed the urge to swallow. "It must cost a lot."

"Ah, easily the monthly grocery allowance for a family of six," he replied lightly.

"I must be careful then."

The image of a forceful Haruhi ripping his shirt off entered unbidden into his thoughts. Kyouya, while he was honest with himself regarding his desires, did not appreciate the turn his mind had taken as she slid the shirt off his shoulders. She draped it aside, careful not to crease the material, and retrieved some medicated oil from a drawer. "Now, _senpai_," she instructed sternly, applying some of the ointment on her fingers. "Sit down and hold still."

He obeyed without question. With the oil in hand and the number of aches he could feel on his back, he knew he was at her mercy. Until she was done, that is.

A stab of pain shot through his tricep as she jabbed her thumb onto a bruise and began to massage it vigorously. He clenched his teeth and grunted.

"It's painful initially but, like they say, 'no pain, no gain'. I'm sure you'll agree."

"That," he bit out, "is purely a matter of opinion."

They sat in silence as she continued her task, Kyouya wincing once or twice. The pain he was experiencing meant that Haruhi either had strong hands or he had been unusually battered by partyware today. It could also mean that she was using the weight of her body to massage the bruises.

"There," she muttered finally, "all done."

He heaved a rare sigh of relief. "Good, glad that's over." Kyouya was not quite sure that he meant it, however. Even though she was inflicting a considerable amount of discomfort, he had to admit that her fingers were relatively gentle _and_ extremely dexterous. Sometimes when her fingers moved across his back from one spot to the next, they would graze his smooth skin and he would tense unconsciously although achingly aware of the paths her fingers had taken. It worried him. It worried him _a lot_.

She held his shirt out to him. He slipped his arms in the sleeves and started to button it up. "Now if you will excuse me," he mumbled, "I'm going to Fuyumi-neesan's to pick up the decorations."

"But it's two hours early!" she protested.

He cleared his throat. "I realised that there was something… important… that I forgot to do."

Kyouya made his way through the kitchen to the door. "I will be back an hour and a half, latest, Mori-senpai. Please watch over Haruhi." Mori nodded. "I will."

"I heard that, Kyouya! I am _not_ a child!"

As Kyouya's footsteps faded into the distance, Mori could not help but remember that Kyouya never _ever_ really forgot anything.

* * *

**Author's Note(s)**: 

A little moment, if you will, between Kyouya and Haruhi. I wanted to see whether I could convey some tension there at least on Kyouya's part.

I wanted to include more bantering initially, but I figured it wouldn't go down well since Haruhi really doesn't banter. And Kyouya, well, he's too cool for it. I don't think it's in his nature to do so either. Veiled insults seem to suit them a little better, although I did keep that to a minimum. I didn't think Haruhi would enjoy having her debt raised.

Hope you enjoyed it! XD


	5. Kneedeep in Soy

Thanks to all my reviewers for your encouragement! It's kept me going! XP**  
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**Chapter 5 // Knee-deep in Soy**

"Of all the insufferable…" muttered Haruhi, who had picked up the green leafy vegetables and was now vehemently pulling the leaves from their stalks. "He is such a…"

"He was concerned about you."

She glanced at the tall man by her side who was still concentrating on slicing the potatoes, which he was doing with remarkable ease, and snorted. "Concerned about ensuring that I'm not creating a handicap with the profits. Hey, thanks for starting the preparations first."

_How swiftly and expertly she changes the subject_, he mused. "Don't worry about it."

It was no secret that Mori's passion, apart from protecting those he cared about, was Kendo. The disciplined cultivation of the mind, body and spirit had helped him foster a deep sense of self-awareness and sincere regard for mankind. He loved grasping a katana in his hand and using it to slice through targets with a single swing of his blade. As such, he did not mind the menial aspects of cooking and fancied himself as a very efficient kitchen hand should the need arise. A knife was in actual fact a shorter blade, which was easier to wield. In truth, he was glad he could be of assistance to Haruhi in the kitchen. It was rather _domestic_.

Mori was extremely self-aware. He knew that he liked Haruhi and would do anything to protect her. He sincerely wished that he had been the one to wander around the supermarket with her and the man that had protected her in her moment of need. However, he had not anticipated Kyouya beating him to it. '_I will go make sure she does not get herself into any trouble. We know how clumsy she can be_,' he had said to him with a smile. '_I would like to refrain from compensating a commoner supermarket for damages_.'

And Kyouya had practically ran after her in what appeared to be a cool, leisurely stroll on the surface.

He was disappointed, but not jealous. He had been useful to her and that was enough. Although he would not mind in the least if he had to be subjected to her ministrations.

The methodical sound of chopping was proving to be a calming influence on them both. Haruhi had ceased grumbling beneath her breath and the vegetables were starting to look less ragged. Within half an hour, the potatoes were boiling in curry, the rice had been poured into the cooker and the vegetables were packed in the refrigerator for sauteeing later. All that was left appeared to be marinating the beef for the hot plate.

"Do you know how, Mori-senpai?"

"Ah. No." Mori rubbed the back of his head in what might have been a sheepish expression.

She smiled brightly. "Don't worry, I'll teach you."

They emptied the beef slices into a large bowl. "For beef on the hot plate, we will need to marinate it for quite a while before cooking. So that it tastes good."

Mori nodded earnestly. She grinned.

"Here are the basic condiments for it to taste just the way I like it: light and dark soy sauce, plenty of pepper, sesame oil and some sweet sauce."

He watched her slender fingers uncap the economy bottle of soy sauce and pour the thin mixture liberally over the red meat, his gaze captured by her movements in pure fascination. She had petite hands and while they were far from work-worn, they were not the pampered fingers of a leisurely princess. Mori had to admit that it was one of the things he liked about her – that she could take care of herself and even others in the process. She was not afraid of hard work but rather, embraced it willingly. It suited him. _She_ suited him.

"Now, we put our hands in and mix it all up to make sure it's all uniform." She thrust her hands into the large bowl and laughed. "This is my favourite part."

He smiled at her warmly.

"You can join in too, Mori-senpai," she gazed at him with her large brown eyes sparkling beneath the morning sun that was shining through the kitchen window, "nothing quite like learning things experientially."

He looked down at his hands. They were rather large and would make short work of the task. And there was enough space in that large bowl for both pairs of hands. He wondered what it would be like to graze hers with his.

Without further thought, he thrust his hands into the mixture, grasping her hands instead of the beef.

"Err… Mori-sen…pai? You're rubbing the marinate into my fingers."

"Oh. Ah, sorry."

"It's okay."

They worked in silence, both staring at their hands as they kneaded the contents of the bowl. It was uncertain to the other party whether each was watching to ensure that their fingers would stay clear of one another's or that it was simply a focal point for their gazes which might otherwise stray.

Mori's heart was thumping strongly in his chest. He was used to being in the company of girls, but being in such close proximity with one that he liked was proving to be a challenge. He hoped sincerely that she would not feel his pulse through his fingertips, which he was studiously trying to keep away from hers. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she tried to use her wrist to remove a lock of hair that was clinging to her cheek.

"Haru… hi."

She turned slowly, cheeks flushing lightly with his use of her name. Before she could ask him what the matter was, he had leaned over and brushed the lock of hair away with the tip of his nose. "That must be irritating," he mumbled.

"Ah, it… was. Th-thank you."

His gesture had rendered her speechless. It was very observant of him to notice what she had been attempting to do for the past few minutes with no avail. She was certain he had used his nose only because his hands were steeped with marinate. She was partially glad for this since it would have been rather messy otherwise. On the other hand, it had made the previously comfortable silence palpable.

Mori cleared his throat. He had no idea what had gotten into him. He had a rather tiring day yesterday and had woken up early this morning, so perhaps he was succumbing to the lack of sleep. That must be it, Mori decided, shaking his head. "Ah." He removed his hands from the bowl. "Looks like we've done enough." He turned the tap on and washed his hands, Haruhi choosing to share the faucet, which made her bare arm brush against his.

He swallowed. He had to move before things got out of hand.

It was strange. He practiced Kendo for goodness sake. Surely he had more discipline than this. He moved purposefully towards the washroom.

"Mori-senpai."

He paused.

"Thanks again for helping."

He smiled. "Mm."

-----

"Kyouya-san, is something amiss?"

Kyouya paused in the midst of checking off his to-do list for the day. "Why do you ask?"

His elder sister dimpled as she poured him a glass of orange juice. "I know you. You're not your usual self." She frowned. "Did something happen?"

Kyouya sighed and snapped his folder shut. "It's nothing you should worry about, Fuyumi-neesan. I just had to get away, that's all."

"Get away from?"

How was it that his tongue always managed to slip whenever he was alone with Fuyumi? Now he would never hear the end of it. "It was getting a little stifling at Haruhi's."

"Ah, is it that Fujioka Haruhi that you always talk about?"

Always? Since when? "I don't always talk about her, but yes, Fujioka Haruhi."

Fuyumi slid into the bar stool facing Kyouya. The counter was pristine white and offered a cosy little nook that could be used for intimate conversations like this one. She smiled warmly at her little brother. "So what about Fujioka-san?"

There was no escaping this, it seemed. Once Fuyumi got it in her head that he was troubled or in some kind of predicament, it was difficult to shake her off. She was a member of the Ootori family after all and had no doubt inherited his father's characteristic tenacity.

"Well, if you must know…"

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

It was rather difficult for me to write this chapter, since it focuses on Mori for the most part. He doesn't say much but I figured he thinks a lot. I tried to keep it as non-OOC as possible. I hope it was successful.

The description of the story has changed as I've decided to narrow the pool of bishounen to Mori, Kyouya and Tamaki. My original intention was to include all members of the Host Club as serious contenders, but I was getting bored of the structure. That is not to say the rest don't like Haruhi. Of course they do (and it'll show). But I think we have these three who will seriously vie for her attention.

The self-aware, the merit-driven and the utterly delusional. I'm still wondering who it could be. Plenty of excitement (hopefully) as the competition gets serious. XD

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Atypical Nomenclature

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers. This one's for you! xP**  
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**Chapter 6 // Atypical Nomenclature**

Haruhi dusted her hands off and perched them on her hips in satisfaction. She had just finished baking the birthday cake with both Mori's and Hani's aid. She grinned at it, impressed that Mori had managed to shape it into a crown despite three layers of sponge and strawberries with cream between them. It was Hani's favourite cake and knew Tamaki would not object to having something that would please them all. _Mmm, strawberries…_

"Yum! Delicious!" Hani squealed as he used a spoon to shovel the leftover icing down his throat. "Haru-chan, Haru-chan! Want some?"

He offered her a taste. "Ah, no thanks, Hani-senpai. Sweets fill me up too much. I'm saving my appetite for tonight." She smiled and patted his head as he licked the spoon clean.

It was already a quarter past three in the afternoon and Kyouya had yet to return with the decorations. He had to hurry if they were to finish everything in time. Haruhi was secretly hoping for a light snooze before dinner as she was fairly sure that Tamaki would wear her out with his antics.

"Call him," suggested Mori, who had been observing Haruhi out of the corner of his eye for the past fifteen minutes. He had prepared all the utensils, crockery and cutlery they would be using while the baking was underway. It was relatively warm and he sat near the window with his shirt off, allowing the breeze to wick away his perspiration. He would take a shower later, after everything else was done.

Haruhi picked up the cordless and dialed Kyouya's mobile phone. This was a relatively easy task since her father had him on speed dial. She had discovered it one day while attempting to call for sushi and had kept her finger on "1" far longer than she should have. She found, much to her horror, an irate Kyouya berating her for assuming that he was the neighbourhood pizza joint and threatening to increase her debt for the insult.

Of course, he never did.

Much to Haruhi's relief.

It appeared that Ootori Kyouya was her father's priority in communication. The first speed dial had always been reserved for her mother whose place was now usurped by the most important individual in his daughter's life. It was not particularly surprising since Kyouya had initiated contact to ensure that Ranka was aware of Haruhi's wellbeing and whereabouts. He had undertaken the responsibility since Tamaki was far too preoccupied smothering Haruhi with hugs and kisses to even spare some consideration for Haruhi's family. It was an extra burden, he had acknowledged, but not without its own merit. He had managed to sneak into Ranka's good graces and was trusted implicitly with Haruhi. It was entirely worth it.

"Ah, Haruhi."

"Kyouya, when will you be back? We need to work fast."

"Why? We have a decent amount of time left. Or are you thinking of taking a nap?" She could almost see his smirk and that intelligent knowing gleam behind his glasses.

"Well, I'd like to. You know Tamaki-senpai is going to exhaust all of us with his requests. I don't suppose we can deny him anything since it's his birthday."

"I suppose not," he conceded. "I'm round the corner, Haruhi. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Alright, see you soon."

She replaced the handset into its cradle.

"We noticed…"

"… that you…"

"Have dropped the honorific for Kyouya-senpai."

Two arms slid across her shoulders in opposite directions as Haruhi found herself sandwiched between two very precocious Hitachiins. They breathed against her ears like twin dragons ready to devour their meal. She squirmed and wriggled, trying desperately to escape from their grasp.

"I don't see why it's any concern of yours how Haruhi addresses me."

"Ah-aaahh. Kyouya-_senpai_," the twins chorused, pouting. "You never let us have any fun."

"More than your fair share." He removed his shoes and walked straight into the kitchen, directing his driver into the living room where the two large boxes of decorations were to be placed. "When did you two cretins arrive?"

"Cretins? We'll have you know we are here to doll our toy up. You will thank us later, Kyouya-senpai." They grinned devilishly and rubbed their cheeks against Haruhi's much to her consternation.

"Hikaru! Kaoru! Stop that!" She pinched their sides. "Help me get the decorations up."

It was Mori who stepped forward and pushed the twins towards the boxes. "Haruhi."

She halted.

"You rest. You've done enough today. We can work it out ourselves."

"But Mori-senpai…"

"Kyouya, see to it that she rests."

"But I can't possibly…"

Kyouya grasped her elbow and steered her to her room. "Yes you can Haruhi." The irony was not lost on him. It was only this morning where the roles were reversed and she had all but yanked him down the aisles of the supermarket. He pulled out a large square pillow from one of her cupboards and propped it against the wall.

"I'm not tired Kyouya." She frowned. Why was she being treated like a child? Especially by him.

"Well, I am. Fuyumi-neesan and I had a long, tiring chat. I can't remember ever having that much orange juice." He sat against the wall and yanked her down by the wrist so she sat beside him.

Mori busied himself with the decorations, pinning the balloons to the walls and hanging the tinsel as directed by Kaoru. Hikaru and Hani were busy painting the banner. Mori knew he was giving Kyouya an opportunity to get an edge in on Haruhi, but he was not as concerned about that. If she liked him, she would somehow reach the conclusion on her own. Moreover, he knew she was tired and was probably in for a long haul tonight. Kyouya could benefit from some rest since he had been running errands the entire day. He was built like a wall, Mori was, and his strength had been honed through rigorous training. This was mere child's play.

Haruhi leaned against the cool wall and sighed. It felt good to sit. She had been on her feet for the past five hours at least. "And what did you talk about?"

"Oh, this and that. Nothing of import. I'm interested, however, in what the twins were talking about earlier." He removed his glasses and began to wipe them carefully with the microfibre cloth he kept in his pocket for such occasions.

"What was that?" She closed her eyes.

He leaned over. "I'm interested," he mumbled, "to find out why it is that you've started addressing me solely by my given name," his breath fanned her cheek, "_Haruhi_."

Her eyes shot open and she was staring into Kyouya's own. They were dark and somewhat mysterious, as if they hinted at some unknown depths within Kyouya's soul that one could see if they paid close enough attention or were invited to. She wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of a hostile stare from the same orbs that were gazing into hers. She had no doubt that they would appear almost brittle with cold and would send the strong to their knees crying.

His lashes, however, were long and delicate. Almost like a woman's, she realised. She liked them, only because it gave those fathomless eyes a softer edge. Regardless of how he looked at you, Haruhi knew that those eyes were just as piercing and they saw more than most ever would.

"Hmm. I don't know," she replied lightly, smiling as she closed her eyes again. "Slip of the tongue?"

He allowed his forehead to rest on her shoulder for a moment. "Slip of the tongue, huh?" There were far too many slips then. His lips brushed against her earlobe. "Wonder what that means."

She shrugged and yawned, unperturbed by his proximity. She was used to such attention from two little devils. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her to his side. She would protest and kick him for it, he knew.

But she did not.

Because she had fallen asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

I bet you can see where this might be going. I need a groundbreaking event somewhere with enough drama that would make the Koreans proud.

Once again, I struggled with getting everyone to remain in character. Romance doesn't sit well with Haruhi, sadly. I wonder how she'd really go about it. Practically, I presume.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. XD


	7. Dinner and a Date

As usual, I must thank my reviewers for inspiring and encouraging me to continue (although the story provides enough incentive as it is). I wouldn't be able to without you guys. Special thanks to Tank who provided insightful comments about some details I overlooked.**  
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**Chapter 7 // Dinner and a Date**

His violet eyes sparkled like amethysts in the glow of the fluorescent lamp of the kitchen. Cheeks flushed, he grasped the hand of his favourite shomin maiden and gazed at her adoringly. "Oh Haruhi, you are surely an angel descended from heaven, destined to grace this wonderful occasion by virtue of my fervent prayers! You have granted us sojourn for the night in your abode and for a mere mortal such as I! I humbly bow before your ethereal presence, my lady!" He brushed his lips across the smooth skin of the back of her hand.

_He sure recovers fast_, the unwilling seraph thought. Tamaki had been speechless barely a moment ago when he had set his eyes upon what could only be termed as unnecessary fashion extravagance. She gave him a perfunctory smile and nodded. "You're welcome, sen… ah… Tamaki."

She made a mental note to visit the bathroom sink later.

"My name on your lips, my sweet, is everything I could ever ask for!" He slid his arms around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Haruhi briefly contemplated the feasibility of escaping, but decided to be agreeable. It was Tamaki's birthday and she did promise Kyouya to indulge him. She had to consider the integrity of her linen closet and her sanity since she would likely have to deal with both Puppy Eyes and the Alcove of Gloom.

"Tono! Try not to crush the dress!" The twins were beside themselves with indignation as they tried to pry Tamaki's arms off Haruhi forcibly. "You'll ruin it!"

The dress was a little strapless cocktail number in a fetching shade of pale pink with a delicate French lace hem ending two inches above the knee. Haruhi was glad that it was reasonably understated although wearing a strapless dress was somewhat of a challenge. Both Hikaru and Kaoru had convinced their mother to add strategic padding to improve Haruhi's bust because it was "too miserable for words" and "might cause the dress to slide right off".

"Noooooooooooooo! Don't remove my ethereal goddess from my person!"

Kyouya gave the twins a pointed glare and they released Tamaki reluctantly.

_I wish he would let go of me. My enhanced breasts might cave in._ He was practically crushing her in his arms._ I can't believe I consented to the padding in the first place._ She sighed. "Tamaki, we have all night. Let's eat. I'm hungry." She prayed silently that he would completely forget about hugging her at all. She was, admittedly, used to his antics by now, but it was nonetheless troublesome to say the least.

"Yes, we _do_ have all night my love! Alas, I cannot not resist such a vision of loveliness!" His eyes sparkled with unshed tears._ Poignant tears, no doubt_, Haruhi thought a little cynically.

As he released her, Haruhi wondered whether he knew exactly what he was saying. It was a shame that she was required to restrain her usual remarks tonight. In a completely different setting, she would have told him that she was _not_ his love and would insist he snap out of Host Mode. It was one thing to lavish the girls who patronised the Host Club in such a manner, but quite another to heap a whole mountain of drivel on one who was nothing like them.

"Such lavish decorations! A veritable rainbow of colours! Oh, what a privilege this is!"

"Tonooooooooo, they're just streamers, balloons and tinsels," the twins whined. "Let's eat!"

Tamaki continued with his worshipful admiration, clasped his hands together in rapture, eyes shining like glossy marbles, shomin items which he had secreted away by the thousands much to Shima's annoyance. "Yes yes, let's! I anticipate the delicious meal with bated breath!"

The twins rolled their eyes heavenward and sat themselves by the table. So much for anticipating the meal. Tono was in a world of his own. "Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! You can serve the food now."

"Don't order my daughter around like a maid!" Tamaki had seated himself and flailed his arms in the air in order to emphasise his protests against the maltreatment his precious Haruhi was receiving. "Haruuuuhiiiiiiiiiiiiiii… may I please have a glass of shomin tap water???"

Kyouya restrained himself from smirking. What was that about child abuse again?

Mori stood and walked towards the kitchen of his own accord. He was used to being of service to the Haninozuka family and Mitsukuni himself. It was impossible to ignore a situation such as this where a group of males were almost infringing on the daily life of one of their female friends and expected her to do all the work. Haruhi was busy removing the film wrap off the dish of marinated beef slices as he entered silently.

"Let me." He took the dish from her hands and the hot plate off the counter.

"Thank you," she sent him a lopsided grin of gratitude.

Mori conceded that if that was all he got from Haruhi for the night, the extra labour would be worth it. Not that he was expecting a reward of any sort in the first place. He smiled back.

"Takashi! You two work so well together! Huh? Huh?"

Haruhi felt her face flush as she heard Mori's grunt in reply and was grateful that she was busy in the kitchen where no one would see it. Mori-senpai had been a great help the entire day, but it was nothing to blush over really. Thinking of others came naturally to him. No one else had come to her aid so what Hani-senpai had said about working together was something that had happened through circumstance. And yet, the light pink of her cheeks refused to budge.

Kyouya-senpai's actions were also bothering her a little. He appeared to be scheming something and his schemes, she had realised long ago, were extremely dangerous. They always managed to increase her debt in some shape or form, something she did not appreciate at all. In fact, it was rather disturbing. At the rate she was going, it would take more than three years of furious hosting to clear the outstanding amount.

She had woken up after her brief nap to find her head resting on Kyouya's shoulder. She had discreetly wiped the little rivulet of drool that had somehow worked its way past her lips and that was perilously close to staining his shirt. She was certain he had not noticed since a quick glance revealed that his glasses were on the shelf and his eyes were closed. His arm, however, was wrapped around her shoulder. She had been caught by surprise then, only because it was not a gesture that came naturally to him. Kyouya was more reserved and far more calculative than the twins. Surely an arm around her shoulder meant that he had something up his sleeve. For fear of the integrity of her debt, she had slipped out of the confines of his arm and into the bathroom to take a shower. When she emerged, Kyouya had already left to ensure that Tamaki arrived without getting lost on public transport.

"Haruhi. The tray."

_Mori-senpai is a real godsend_, she thought as she handed him the tray of food and cutlery. _Those other ungrateful rich bastards really have no consideration for others_. They had already started pan-frying the meat on the hotplate along with some vegetables. Mori ladled out some curry and soup while she busied herself with the rice.

"It smells so good!" Tamaki beamed at her across the table. His eyes softened. "Thank you, Haruhi."

For the life of her, however, Haruhi could not find it in her heart to stay annoyed. Not when Tamaki was giving her one of his signature sweet puppy looks and sounded so incredibly sincere. "You're welcome… Tamaki."

He nearly went into hysterics at that but halted when the twins slapped some beef onto his dish and chorused, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TONOOOOOOOOO!" Tamaki, touched that they had given him the first slices of beef which had been "so lovingly sautéed", began to tear in sheer joy while Hani patted him on the back and handed him Usa-chan for comfort.

So he ate, with his closest friends around him, his beloved daughter in the role of the perfect hostess. He was pleased with this, since he could imagine her as the hostess of the second Suou mansion in Inner Mind Theatre mode with relative ease. His only reservation was that Mori appeared to be comfortable in his role as _the host_. Throughout dinner, he had been helping his precious daughter with bits and pieces, fetching cutlery, napkins, ice, tea… you name it, Mori got it. He knew where everything was, Tamaki fumed jealously. This would not do! His daughter was _his_ and he would be damned if anyone got their grubby hands on her, even if it was Mori-senpai who could kick his behind successfully any given day.

Kyouya himself was not oblivious to the effortless manner in which Mori moved about Haruhi's home. The tall third year had been busy helping out the entire day and it was not surprising in the least. There were two things that Kyouya was perturbed about, however, that he would not likely admit to anyone should they have asked. Mori did not merely do what he was told to or offer a helping hand when it was needed. Instead, he pre-empted what was required, even before anyone said anything. Most notably, before _Haruhi_ even said anything. He always knew what she wanted. Kyouya realised it ruffled his feathers a little to know that Mori could anticipate her needs even before he could. Of course, everyone else could before Tamaki, who was as usual as clueless as a newborn babe.

It was Kyouya's niche to be painfully aware of every single meticulous detail. It annoyed him somewhat that he did not have telepathic communication lines open with Haruhi, which Mori seemed to have. The second thing that irked him was the intimate looks that Mori kept giving Haruhi. The slight quirk of the eyebrow, the minute twitch of the lips… small gestures that others would have missed, except him. He was observant to a fault after all. It might have been better had he not noticed. He winced inwardly as Haruhi flushed pink again as Mori handed her some chilli which, once again, she had not asked for, but was wanting. He wondered belatedly whether it was some form of ninjutsu that Mori practiced on the sly which gave him these abilities.

What was she to him, he wondered as he chewed on the deliciously spiced beef while watching her out of the corner of his eye. Haruhi had once again outdone herself. She was an excellent cook. Was she willing to cook in _his_ kitchen? Rather, the kitchen they _shared_? Kyouya had reached an epiphany while she was asleep on shoulder as he watched her breathe. She was extremely adorable, he admitted, as his eyes widened in surprise at the little trail of drool that had started to develop at the corner of her mouth while she slept. Was being "adorable" one of the important criteria in a potential mate? He was young and playing the field seemed to come naturally to those his age, but he was not interested in chasing after girls. He had an ambition to fulfil. The question was whether he wanted to fulfil it alone or with someone else by his side.

The women he had met at various parties and functions did not interest him in the least. They were vain, scheming moneygrubbers. If it was one thing he detested, it was girls with a hidden agenda. They were unable to hide their superficiality, at least around him. It was painfully obvious that they had something else in mind and that stood out in greater relief if he compared them with the artless Haruhi. She had spoiled him. Before he had met her, he might have seriously considered marrying for the future of the Ootori Group, but it would no longer satisfy him. Haruhi was the only girl he could seriously consider being with. She was intelligent, independent and most importantly, straightforward. What you saw was what you got. And then she had those large brown doe eyes…

He continued watching her surreptitiously as he picked some vegetables off the hotplate. Tamaki was now going on about presents, hands gesticulating everywhere in a typical kingly fashion. "Did you get your dearest father anything Haruhiiiiii?"

"Ah. Umm… well, not exactly," she hedged._ What, was this entire shomin party insufficient for His Highness?_ "I thought that since I've gone to so much trouble…"

Tamaki gasped. "Trouble? _Trouble_??? Ohhh you wound me, my sweeting! You mean it was _troublesome_ to prepare all this for meeeeee?"

Haruhi coughed. "No, no. That's not what I meant." Curse the foot in her mouth. She had done it again. "I meant that I have had… ah… little time to think about what you might want."

"Oh! Well, why didn't you say so?"

_How could I possibly when you began raving?_ Her eyes narrowed as he gazed at her expectantly. She knew what that look meant. There was something he wanted and it had something to do with her. Worst of all, it appeared that she probably would not like whatever it was he had in mind.

"Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiii…" _Uh oh_. "Will you go on a date with me this weekend?"

It was quite possible, Kyouya mused as he watched Haruhi's eyes widen and then narrow once again, that the clueless newborn babe was not as dense as everyone thought he was.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Yes, Tamaki's back in the running. Only because I was dissatisfied with how lopsidedly Kyouya-Mori it was going. A longer chapter this time, with a bit more insight into character's thoughts and behaviours, especially Kyouya's POV. This, however, does not mean that he'll end up with Haruhi. He just gets more fic time because I love the bugger to bits.

I have to confess that at this point, I still have no idea who Haruhi is going to end up with. At times I lean towards Kyouya; at others, Mori. And right now, I want more of my precious Tono in there. I know most of you are rooting for Kyouya though. I'm beginning to wonder who isn't.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for journeying thus far with me. XD


	8. A Crack of Tenderness

A longer chapter, approximately 3.2K words worth. I went wild with this one (well, reasonably). Absolutely loved writing it. Happy Christmas, dear readers! XD

Someone asked me why Hikaru is out of the running and I thought I'd answer that here. I feel that he's currently at a stage (in the anime/manga anyway) where he's learning to handle his own feelings of friendship with others beyond the Host Club. I doubt he'll really come into his own that soon. It's not a process that I want to expedite for the sake of the story because there's a lot of fodder there that I probably wouldn't be able to address sufficiently.

That is not to say that Hikaru doesn't like her. He does (I'll explain after this chapter). But as a serious contender in this story, I think not. Probably in another story with a different setting. ((wriggles eyebrows))

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**Chapter 8 // A Crack of Tenderness**

As she watched the King prance around her living room, snapping photographs exuberantly with his digital camera, Haruhi once again wondered what she had done to deserve all this. The twins were far from helpful, having almost upended the entire table in their enthusiasm to forcibly insert their faces into Tamaki's shots. She was thankful that Kyouya and Hani both had grasped the table at its corners and held it down just in time. Mori was shadowing the hyperactive threesome, ever the guardian, this time of her mother's precious few ornaments.

Tamaki might as well have brought Antoinette. Haruhi doubted that the canine's presence would have made any difference at all.

She knelt and stacked the crockery methodically, emptying the scraps onto the now cool hotplate. They had prepared a ridiculous amount of food, but everyone had finished everything save the results of a few incidents of overcooking courtesy of Tamaki. Even Hani, who had a distinctly sweet palate, had consumed enough manly food to last a lifetime. She knew he had enjoyed every minute of it, grinning widely at her with sauce smeared around his mouth until Mori had handed him a napkin.

Mori kept his eye trained on Haruhi as he snatched a teetering photo frame off the top of the television set which Hikaru was examining with interest. Hikaru, fascinated, exclaimed that the unit was large and bulky; and Tamaki, having heard that, remarked that mounting it on the wall would be nigh impossible. Together, they set about measuring the width and depth of the unit with their hands, muttering incessantly about how commoners unwittingly wasted valuable space in an already tiny room. Kaoru wisely said nothing, choosing instead to partake of the event as a casual observer.

A bowl clinked against another with a little more force than was necessary.

_She would probably require some help with the crockery… and her temper_, Mori surmised with mild amusement as he noted the pile forming on the table. His countenance, however, betrayed nothing. "Kyouya. Please."

Kyouya nodded silently and placed the crockery on the tray, then brought it to the kitchen sink. Haruhi followed with the hotplate. She emptied its contents into a small plastic bag and discarded that, then placed the hotplate in the sink to soak. She had to admit she was sorely tempted to utilise the bathroom for the washing up, since their sink was a little too small for the amount of crockery and cutlery they had used. She thought better of it, however. The imaginary stares from the rest of the Host Club were enough to put her off the idea. She would consider it only when they left, of course, and not found anywhere within a five kilometre radius.

"Thanks, Kyouya-senpai." She smiled. "I'll bring out the cake. If you would help me by cleaning the table…"

"It'll be on your tab, Haruhi," he smirked.

He picked up the clean damp cloth Haruhi had purchased for the party's purposes and surprisingly, did an admirable job of clearing the table. Haruhi raised her eyebrows in incredulity as Kyouya emptied some grains of rice that he had collected on his palm into the plastic bag and washed his hands thoroughly under the sink. Who would have thought that the Shadow King was capable of such domesticity?

"I see you're surprised."

"Of course. This isn't typical rich bastard behaviour," she murmured beneath her breath while peering into the refrigerator for the cake.

"I heard that."

"Cake! Cake! CAAAAAKEEEEEEEE!!!" Hani squealed in ecstasy at the whiff of the scrumptious cake that they had baked. It was his chef's recipe and it was as shomin as a cake could possibly get with all its ingredients having been bought from the local supermarket. He came barrelling through into the kitchen, clutching his cherished rabbit.

He grabbed Haruhi's arm and tugged on it plaintively. "Can we have cake now? Please, Haru-chan?"

She patted his shoulder. "Yes, Hani-senpai. We'll have cake now. But only if you tell the others that they have to sit quietly by the table."

Kyouya had to award Haruhi some points for ingenuity as he watched Hani gather the rest of the club, pleading with them as he pulled on their shirts. He could be extremely persuasive when he wanted to be, with those large round eyes. Haruhi placed the cake on the table without incident, much to her relief.

Tamaki, as usual, was beside himself with joy. "Hani-senpai! What a delightful looking confection! The fruit of your labour will not go to waste!" He clasped Haruhi's hands in his once again. Belatedly, she realised her folly at having sat herself right next to him. "My precious daughter, you have once again outdone yourself! Father is so proud!"

"Yes, yes."

She lit the candles as Mori turned the lights off. There was a rare moment of silence as Tamaki furiously blinked back tears. They sang the birthday song seven times because it was Tamaki's favourite number and he had made every one of them sing his name in turn, then collectively. He made a wish, eyes squeezed tightly shut, an adorable visage if there ever was one, and blew out the candles with a flourish. He clapped his hands happily. "This is the _best_ birthday ever!"

He grasped the beribboned knife and sliced the cake cleanly, then placed the ten large slices on a plate each.

"Tonooooooooooo, that's far too many," Hikaru protested. Haruhi had worked hard on that cake, what with all the icing and strawberries. He was eager to get his hands on the sweet little confection.

Tamaki smiled. "Well, I thought Ranka-san would like a slice and Haruhi's mum too. And I was going to offer one to the landlady for putting up with the noise."

"Ah-aaahh, so thoughtful of you Tonooo!" The twins narrowed their eyes knowingly. "Perhaps you're trying to get into the good graces of Haruhi's faaaaather???"

"Ah. Uh… no, not really," he coughed and blushed a deep red, eyes wandering to Haruhi who was obliviously handing out the cake slices to everyone.

_Clearly, far less stupid than we think he is when it comes to Haruhi. I wonder whether he's reached enlightenment, _Kyouya mused as he stabbed at a strawberry and ate it.

"Here. You love these, don't you?"

While the rest were busy teasing Tamaki, Haruhi had taken a seat right next to Mori and the latter was in the process of placing all the strawberries in his cake onto her plate. The twins and Tamaki, upon observing this, once again went into woebegone hysterics, pounding the floor with their fists and flailing their arms in dismay. Hani was blissfully eating his own large slice with a beatific expression on his face.

Kyouya, however, was a little displeased, although his expression was as unreadable as ever. He knew Mori was just being his usual self, except that it was blatantly obvious he cared for Haruhi more than the rest of the girls that frequented the Host Club. He was always looking out for her and right now, just by observing the nuances in Haruhi's expression, Kyouya knew instinctively that Mori was a serious contender for her heart. Damn it all, as tempting as it was, he would _not_ resort to some fancy ploy to make Haruhi his. She was too special for that.

And too bloody smart.

She had already suspected something was up. He knew this the moment she had woken from her nap and had furtively wiped the salivary evidence of her slumber while glancing at him to make sure he had not stirred. He had kept his eyes closed then, only to see what she would do. He had identified a single possible course of action that Haruhi would take: she would somehow escape as stealthily as possible. He was far from dumbfounded when she did take off, grasping his fingertips gently and inching sideways until she could place his hand gently on the floor. But he was sorely disappointed. It was quite futile to hope that she would cling to him like the vapid daughters of some of his father's acquaintances. His practical Haruhi would never do that.

He groaned inwardly and continued his silent observation. Since when had he started thinking of her as his?

Across the table, Mori's lips twitched as he watched Haruhi munch on the slice of cake happily. She had closed her eyes in sheer bliss and he could tell that she was savouring the smooth consistency of the highest grade supermarket cream they could buy. He knew Haruhi kept things economical, not because she was a penny pincher, but rather because she had a list of priorities that she had to consider. As much as she loved food, he understood the reasons for her sacrifice. It was this similar perspective that was the basis for his gallantry.

In all honesty, deep in the secret cockles of his heart, Mori truly loved strawberries more than any other fruit. He loved the rich colour they took on when they were ripe for eating, loved the tangy-sweet taste and loved the texture almost to distraction. He had on many an occasion, sat in the private confines of his room savouring the latest strawberries air flown from various countries of the world like a little boy with the most precious of treasures. Hani knew this of course and had always requested extra crates whenever his chef ordered them in so he could give them to Mori. The strawberry, in plain truth, was the sole mistress in his fruity clandestine affair.

He felt some measure of satisfaction that he could sacrifice something he loved for Haruhi. He had crates and crates of the things sitting in cool storage at home for lush desserts, but mostly for his personal enjoyment, at times with smooth cream. It was ridiculously decadent and warred against his innate nature that had been honed through years of Kendo, but Mori allowed himself this one little indulgence. An indulgence he would gladly relinquish for Haruhi if it ever came to that. He ate silently, then stood to clear the dishes when everyone had finished.

Haruhi protested immediately like he knew she would. "Mori-senpai, you don't have to do that. You're a guest."

"Let me." He held her gaze and smiled, placing a hand on her head, careful not to dislodge the barrettes that held her fringe in place. She wrinkled her nose a little and frowned. "Okay, but don't overdo it."

As soon as the statement left her lips, she realised how pointless it was to tell Mori not to overdo something. He rarely ever did. She grinned a little sheepishly. He grunted and pushed her out of the kitchen.

"Ah, Haruhi, we have to get going. Our ride's here. We've got an early start tomorrow helping out with Mother's runway show." The twins slid their arms around her waist and pecked her on either cheek as she glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost one in the morning. Time had flown by swiftly. It was not surprising at all if she considered all the relentless chatter from the twins, melodrama from their King, stories told by Hani and the various shomin card games they had played at certain points during dinner to settle the food in their stomachs. It was no wonder they consumed everything. It had been an extended feast of sorts.

Her shoulders slumped and she heaved a huge sigh. She was exhausted.

Kaoru smiled. "Thanks for hosting us Haruhi. It's been more than a little trouble, we know."

"Oh my precious daughter," cried Tamaki as he used his cuff to rub at Haruhi's cheeks vigorously, much to the consternation of the twins. "Have they violated your beautiful visage? Back, you cretins! Back, I say!" He hugged her tightly. Haruhi swore that this would be the last liberty she allowed him tonight.

"Tamaki, we have to go as well. My car is here and it's way past the time we should be intruding, especially on the neighbours." Kyouya placed a hand on Tamaki's shoulder and turned to Haruhi. "Thank you for having us over. Are you going to be alright?"

She nodded. "Yes, I should be. Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai will probably be here for a while." Her eyes strayed to the corner of the room, where Hani was curled up on a pillow, humming to Usa-chan drowsily. She made a mental note to do something before he fell asleep. All would be lost then.

Kyouya offered her an uncharacteristically warm smile. "I'll see that Tamaki gets home safely." He clasped her upper arms and squeezed them gently before letting go. It was probably the closest thing to a hug he could muster in view of all and sundry. "Goodnight, Haruhi."

"Don't forget about our date this weekend, my dearest darling daughterrrrrrr!"

She shut the door and leaned against it, sighing loudly. Why in blue blazes did she agree to go on a date with Tamaki? It had the potential to escalate into something extremely troublesome. While she could handle him well enough on her own, being in his company for an entire day was going to be draining. While she had no idea what he had in mind, she was going to cry murder if he decided to do something shomin because it was quaint and unique and oh-so _common_.

She should have bought a present.

"Mitsukuni, you should go home to rest." Mori was shaking Hani by the shoulder gently.

"But I can't leave Takashi alone. How are you going to get home?" Hani blinked and yawned, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"It's alright. I'll manage."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Goodnight, Haru-chaaaaaan!" He tottered over and hugged her.

"Goodnight, Hani-senpai. Rest well." Mori saw Hani down the condominium stairs to ensure that he reached the car safely and returned to find Haruhi washing up.

She stifled a yawn.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're tired. Go take a hot shower. I'll finish up here." There was a little left and he could finish them by the time she emerged from the shower.

Haruhi objected with a little grumble, but did as she was told. She was no longer merely tired. She was bone-weary and her brain had begun to ache a little. In truth, she was glad for the reprieve. It had been a long day and despite the nap she had taken earlier, she knew that she would be out like a light the moment her head touched the pillow. She was grateful that Mori had remained to help her out. Had she been left alone to contend with the dishes, she would likely have broken something in a sleep-induced stupor.

She closed her eyes as the warm water eased the day's accumulated aches. The lavender shower foam that she used soothed her senses. The bathroom had always been Haruhi's special little niche in her home. There, she could stay uninterrupted for an extended length of time without intrusion. A place where even her theatrical father could not enter. She relished being alone with her own thoughts at times.

Upon reflection, she was glad that Tamaki had a good time tonight, even though she had been greatly inconvenienced. It was a once in a lifetime event. At least, she hoped it would be. She groaned and massaged her temples. She had had enough shomin excitement to last her a lifetime.

And then there was Kyouya, who had been behaving strangely. She had absolutely no idea what was transpiring in his head at this point. In fact, she was far too tired to figure him out. Even though she could decipher some facets of his character, he was still an enigma at others. Perhaps he had had a trying day. Maybe it was something his sister had said. Whatever it was, she hoped he would surface from it soon. A Kyouya who was atypically inscrutable, according to her knowledge of risk assessment, was a Grade A hazard.

She turned the tap off and stretched before putting on her nightgown. She would have preferred plain pyjamas, but Ranka had practically burned the baby blue striped cotton one that she owned. She padded into the kitchen, towelling her hair dry as she went. Mori had placed the last of the dishes to dry. She glanced at the clock again. It was thirty minutes past one.

"Thanks, Mori-senpai. Would you like to take a shower? You can borrow one of Dad's larger T-shirts and a pair of shorts." She stifled yet another yawn. "It's pretty late. You can stay over."

Mori's eyes widened slightly in surprise. The offer was not unwelcome since he loathed travelling home at this hour. He had decided to call for a cab and had intended to leave quietly the moment he was sure she was asleep. It appeared she had made a decision of her own. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's late. Unless I'm mistaken, you were considering calling for a cab because you didn't want to wake your family," she smiled. "You've helped out so much today, it's the least I can do."

He wondered whether Haruhi had taken the fact that he was a virile male into consideration at all. This was not a regular slumber party with her female middle school friends. She must not have noticed, he mused. He knew he had her utmost trust. He hoped he could keep his hands to himself. The urge to take her in his arms was almost overwhelming.

Yet he found himself agreeing in spite of himself.

She grinned in satisfaction, as if she knew he would. It was practical, he supposed, and he was as practical as she was, if not more so. He could always return home the next morning. After breakfast, he was sure she would insist. She rummaged in the closet for a set of decent sleepwear, studiously avoiding T-shirts with strange kanji printed on them, and handed it to him. "Feel free to use the lavender wash. It's mine. I doubt you'd like what Dad uses. I don't." She grinned again.

Mori stepped into the shower counting his very many blessings. He had to admit finally that he was feeling a little tired. He soaped up, massaging his arms and neck as he did so. Through the patter of the cascading water, he heard a distinct clap of thunder.

_Haruhi!_

He rinsed off hastily and put on the clean clothes, then slammed the bathroom door open, sprinting immediately to where Haruhi was huddled beneath the covers in the corner of her bedroom.

"Haruhi!"

He gathered her into his arms and slipped beneath the covers himself, leaning against the wall for support. She was trembling uncontrollably and had started sobbing. He peered beneath the quilt. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was clutching his shirt at the chest as if her life depended on it. It was the first time he had seen her fear up close. She was literally paralysed. He winced, imagining how she must have suffered throughout the years alone at home without a parent present.

A surge of tenderness overwhelmed him as he tucked the quilt beneath her chin and pressed her head against his chest, covering her other ear with his hand to shut out the noise. She burrowed closer and he allowed himself the luxury of nuzzling her damp, fragrant hair.

In the morning, when Ranka returned, he found his daughter cradled in the arms of Morinozuka Takashi, with a hand clutching his chest and his arm around her waist, both of them fast asleep with gentle smiles on their faces.

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**Author's Note(s):**

HaHAAAAA! Just when you guys were getting comfortable with the Kyouya-Haruhi pairing. You can tell how fickle I am by the way the plot is moving. And yes, for the umpteenth time, I still don't know who it's going to be.

Although everyone's protesting vehemently against Tamaki. Where's the Tamaki love? I'll reveal this much: it's not going to be Tono, although I'm definitely giving him more fic time by way of the aforementioned date for the purpose of character development. He's mostly delusional and melodramatic here so until he calms down, I doubt Haruhi wants to live with someone just like her father.

I mentioned in the pre-chapter note that Hikaru does like Haruhi. I'll leave you to decide what confection he's referring to which he says he wants to get his hands on. I may complicate things later with this little nugget.

I love Mori. I fell in love with him all over again after writing this chapter. I love that little strawberry secret he has. I pulled that one out of thin air, since I thought it would be more poignant sacrificing something he really loved as opposed to dumping the strawberries on Haruhi because he was indifferent about them. I hope there's no mention of anything contrary to this. ((crosses fingers))

Regarding Haruhi's invitation for him to stay the night, I figured it was plausible since she isn't particularly concerned about genders and is a practical person. Plus, she's a thoughtful girl. I love her to bits!

I wonder where that leaves Kyouya though. He's quite disturbed at this point.


	9. Repercussions and a Revelation

Oops. I meant to replace chapter 10, but for some reason replaced chapter 9 instead. A reupload! Thanks for pointing it out Kuroibi!**  
**

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**Chapter 9 // Repercussions and a Revelation**

It was a fair afternoon. A light balmy breeze whispered its way past plain concrete, rustling the sparse foliage of a nearby tree. For most people, it was a wonderful day, perfect for an outdoor picnic, a stroll in town or perhaps a swim in the sea. For the members of the Fujioka household and one poor solitary soul of the Morinozuka family, however, the weather was clearly meant to be a rather rude juxtaposition of the phenomenon that they were currently experiencing within the confines of four walls.

Haruhi kneaded her throbbing temple as she continued to remain silent throughout her father's tirade. He was a veritable typhoon -- arms a-flinging, spittle a-sprinkling and creator of all the required din that went along with something as catastrophic as Ranka On A Rampage.

So she had slept in the arms of Mori-senpai for a night. Was that such a big deal? In all honesty, she really did not see what the problem was. Sleep, if one were to interpret the lexeme denotationally without any possible euphemism it might have acquired throughout the ages, meant just that: to rest with one's eyes closed and mind and body not active.

Her father cross-dressed for a living for goodness sake. Things could not possibly get more ironic than this.

She slanted Mori a sidelong glance. His expression and posture gave none of his thoughts away. She had her suspicions nonetheless that should he have been in motion, he would probably have pulled a Tamaki and slipped on a dozen imaginary banana peels by now. Was it her imagination or was his hair slightly limp, a visual testament to his flagging spirits? Perhaps it was the humidity. Or else the endless spray of vapour that came ceaselessly from her father's gaping maw.

"Youngsters these days!" Ranka exclaimed, waving his arms expansively. "Aregettingmoreandmoredecadantwhatonearthistheworldcomingtooooooo?????" He clutched his hair dramatically and made as if to tear the glossy strands out.

His daughter ignored him. She had to escape _somewhere_ before he went on his age-old back-in-my-day narrative. _Preferably to another country_, she thought dryly. "Mori-senpai, I'm going to get some tea. Want some?"

He nodded, his countenance melting slightly into something that reminded Haruhi of a drenched kitten. Mori was glad that he could, at this point in time, move his head without incurring a scathing glare from Ranka. Like Haruhi, he had begun to develop a headache.

"And where are _you_ going young lady!?!!"

"To get some tea."

Haruhi was sorely tempted to shut herself in the bathroom, never to emerge from its depths ever again. Unfortunately, leaving poor Mori to fend for himself against her formidable father was not a viable option. One, it was possible that he would never be able to leave _ever_. Or two, he would ooze out little gap at the bottom of her apartment door if he did. She sighed.

Back in the living room, Mori continued to keep his eyes trained on the table. It was a good solid piece of furniture, he realised; fine-grained and smooth. It was plain, but without doubt an excellent display of craftsmanship. Beyond distracting himself with his environs, Mori was at a complete loss. The days he had spent studying and training in martial arts had not provided him with an easy solution to such a complicated problem. It was in his code to protect those he cared about, but no one had ever hinted at the possible consequences that might ensue from extending protection. If there was a Kendo 101 volume that dealt with the nitty-gritty to be found, he was certain he had missed it.

The current circumstance he was in, in truth, was relatively straightforward. He knew exactly how he felt about Fujioka Haruhi. What he was hesitant about was making his feelings known. He was not sure whether Haruhi felt anything beyond friendship for him. Mori had deduced through covert observation that she enjoyed his company and trusted him implicitly, two things he was extremely glad for. However, he wanted her to approach him herself, or at least discover where her affections lay on her own. It would be pointless to force her hand.

There was also the issue that Kyouya presented. He had felt some lingering hostility last night when the younger host had left. It was not obvious -- he was the Shadow King after all -- but Mori knew that Kyouya liked Haruhi a great deal. Possibly even loved her. If she loved Kyouya in return, she needed to be free to do so, without any encumbrances a confession from him would likely create.

If Ranka asked what his intentions were, he was going to cite protection and Kendo tenets all the way.

Her father was still going on when she returned with three mugs of tea. Mori was starting to look beleaguered. Haruhi figured he was at his limit. In truth, so was she.

She placed the tray on the table.

"Dad."

He glared at her. "You, girl! Did you use protection!?!! What are you going to do if you get pregnant!?!! Did you think of the consequences!?!! Who's going to feed the child!?!! Are you going to quit school to work!?!!" Ranka appeared to disintegrate right before their eyes. He had clearly taken leave of his senses. "This is a million times worse than the last time with that Suou," he continued, muttering in distaste.

Both teenagers blushed beet red. Mori clenched his fists in his lap. The word "protection", used in Ranka's context, had sparked off a whole train of thought any decent pugilist with some vestige of self-control would not even entertain in the slightest. Why, he was turning into a pervert! He shook his head vehemently and grunted.

"DAAAAAAD! What a thing to say in front of Mori-senpai!"

"WHAT??? You're still using _that_ honorific??? Isn't he your precious Takashi-kun???? Your priorities are all wrong, Haruhi! 'Takashi-kun' before the sex! OH GODDDD, YOU AREN'T A MAIDEN ANY LOOOONGERRR!!!!"

"Nothing happened with 'my precious Takashi-kun'! It was storming last night! STORMING! S-T-O-R-M-I-N-G! He was here because it was far too late to return home, so he stayed the night!" Haruhi had progressed beyond mild irritation to intense annoyance. She had gotten used to her father's tendency to exaggerate, but this was ridiculous. It had grown to Godzilla-esque proportions and he had pulled all sorts of little factoids about protection, children and loss of maidenhood out of where the sun adamantly refused to shine.

_Mother in heaven_, she groaned inwardly.

"It's true, Ranka-san," Mori interjected as calmly as possible, his expression schooled into the countenance of a mature adult. "Haruhi was tired after a long day. I stayed to help clean up. She offered to let me sleep over only because it was more troublesome to return home at 1.30am in the morning without a ride."

His heart was pounding as if he had sprinted an entire marathon as Ranka set his eyes on him. He had never had the need to clarify himself with an irate -- let alone delusional -- parent of any girl. This was a first and it would, hopefully, be the last. He had serious doubts as to whether he would be able to abscond with his life. He forged on.

"I was in the shower when I heard thunder. I knew Haruhi would be afraid and therefore rushed to her side to comfort her. We were exhausted and fell asleep. That's all."

He watched Ranka's eyes narrow and swallowed.

"I swear on the name of the Morinozuka family that I have not compromised Haruhi's virtue in any way."

"Daaaaaaaaaaad! I think that's enough. I had a good rest while there was a storm because of Mori-senpai. I'm glad he was here. End of discussion." She turned to Mori. "Let's go for some breakfast and a stroll. I could use the fresh air."

Ranka pouted.

"I'm leaving!"

Mori blinked, a little dazedly Ranka observed, as he opened the door for Haruhi and followed his daughter out the front door. He noticed they both still wore the rouge of embarrassment on their faces and smiled knowingly. _I might have to ask Takashi-kun what his intentions are eventually,_ he mused. "See you soon."

-----

"Sorry about that back there, Mori-senpai."

Mori grunted. "It's fine." He handed her one of the strawberry muffins they had bought at a bakery along the way. Their initial journey to the park had started in utter silence, save the firm footsteps they made on the concrete walkway. Mori had been in a daze, unsure as to whether he had escaped unscathed. The trauma of being pseudo-interrogated by whom the twins secretly termed as an "Ultra Stupid Parent" between them had sapped his energy. That is, until they had passed a bakery with the sweetest scent of strawberries and muffins, quite possibly, known to man. He had ambled over and bought two large muffins and coffee for them both.

Haruhi, for the most part, knew that she had to apologise on her father's behalf. Mori had done nothing wrong. On the contrary, he had been extremely supportive. She winced inwardly as she watched Mori make his purchases, recalling the things her father had said. Sometimes she wondered whether Ranka gave others a hard time on purpose because he wanted the attention. She had expected nothing less however, since he had been fairly violent the last time she was caught in a compromising position with Tamaki. Belatedly, she realised that her father, while he had ranted and raved, had not laid a single finger on Mori. That probably had something to do with Mori's non-academic skill sets.

"How about here, Mori-senpai?"

They had arrived at an empty bench at the nearby park. Mori nodded and sat, patting the seat next to him. Haruhi took it, smiling at him happily. "I'm so glad to be out of the house. Dad can be stifling when he gets like that." She breathed in and exhaled deeply.

He set the coffee between them and handed her a muffin. "Here."

She accepted it with pleasure. The morning's escapades had caused to expend more energy than she had anticipated. A quick sugar fix would be more than welcome. The muffin was lightly browned at the top and she could see the gleaming strawberries on its surface. She bit into it with gusto and purred.

Mori was watching her. One of the things he loved about Haruhi was the relish with which she ate. She was a girl who enjoyed food and enjoyment of food, he thought, meant enjoyment of something else. He was fairly certain that she was a passionate little dynamite just waiting to explode in the right circumstance. A quiz that he had taken secretly on one of those nights where he had been extremely tired had told him so.

He took a bite of his own muffin. "Mmm."

Haruhi's eyes widened as she turned her gaze on him. "You like the muffin huh?"

He bobbed his head vigorously. "Strawberries are my favourite fruit."

She tilted her head quizzically"If strawberries are your favourite fruit, why do you give them to me?"

"Because you like them."

"Oh."

Haruhi blinked. This was new to her. She had assumed that Mori had given her his strawberries because he had not liked them, but here he was saying something to the contrary. He liked strawberries. Liked them, but gave them to her because _she_ liked them. _Ah, it's so like Mori-senpai to be so selfless_.

"Well, thank you. For sacrificing for me." She beamed at him brightly and reached for her coffee cup.

He grabbed her hand. "Haruhi."

Time slowed. She held her breath. Mori was looking at her strangely, as if he wanted to say something important.

"It's hot."

_How anticlimactic_, she thought with a wry smile as he released her hand and wrapped the paper cup with a double layer of serviettes, then handed the cup to her.

Haruhi was a little perplexed as to what she was expecting. She took a sip of the coffee, strangely soothed by the little sting on the tip of her tongue. He was right -- it was hot. She observed him out of the corner of her eye as he munched on the muffin and grabbed his cup of coffee. He was being very sweet to her and she knew she had done nothing to deserve it really. _I wonder what he's thinking about_.

He turned and smiled, setting his cup back on the bench and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb across the corner of her mouth. She was staring at him with those large brown eyes and an expression that made him weak in the knees.

He cleared his throat. "Crumb."

_Twice_, Mori thought. Twice, he had slipped up, wanting to tell her exactly how he felt. His hand had moved of its own volition. He kicked himself mentally. This would not do. He studiously avoided her gaze as he finished his breakfast.

"You're tired," she said absently, clutching her coffee in both hands. "Thank you for breakfast… and… for staying the night."

"It was no trouble." He stood, placed his hand on her head and ruffled her hair gently. "C'mon. I'll walk you home."

-----

"KYOUYA! KYOUYAAAAA!!! MORI-SENPAI STAYED WITH HARUHI LAST NIGHT!!! WITHOUT RANKA-SAAAAAN!!! THEY WERE ALOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!"

Kyouya held the receiver away from his ear. "And how, pray tell, do you know this?"

As always, he approached everything Tamaki said with a pinch of salt. He knew his best friend had the tendency to exaggerate and launch into premature hysterics. The Karuizawa episode some time back had cemented that fact. He could almost hear Tamaki reach the pinnacle of hyperventilation. It was an ironic method of attaining Nirvana.

"I CALLED HARUHI JUST TO MAKE SURE SHE'S ALRIGHT AND TO CONFIRM THE TIME FOR OUR DATE AND RANKA-SAN PICKED UP THE PHONE AND SAID HARUHI HAD GONE OUT WITH MORI-SENPAI WHOHADSTAYEDTHENIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!"

"And the problem is?"

"OH I KNEW MORI-SENPAI WAS AFTER MY FATHERLY POSITIONNNN!!!!! WHAT DO I DOOOOOOO KYOUYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!?!!!!!!!"

"Well, firstly, I suggest you calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm. Secondly, like the twins said before, no one would want that aunt-like position. And thirdly, as much as I loathe the idea of Haruhi spending a night alone with _any_ male for fear of the safety of her fragile person, I believe she was in good hands. In a manner of speaking of course."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! THE IMAGERYYYYYY!!!!!"

"I said, in a manner of speaking. Not literally."

Tamaki had begun hiccupping. "Oh."

"You really should drink some water. Try to inhale via your windpipe and not your oesophagus. I'm in the middle of work, so if you'll excuse me."

"Okay."

"Later, Tamaki. And remember, try not to do anything stupid."

Both parties replaced their respective receivers. Tamaki wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water and Kyouya resumed his work, only to discover that, in his agitation, he had snapped the wooden shomin pencil he had bought on a whim in half.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

I forgot what I said here, but hell. Read on!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	10. The Sting of Admission

I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story as much as I love writing it! I haven't been receiving any notification from FFNet lately for some reason, so it took me a little longer to post this (I generally wait for a few reviews before I post the next chapter if it's done).**  
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**Chapter 10 // The Sting of Admission**

"Whaaaaaaaaat???"

"I'M TELLING YOU TWO, IT'S TRUUUUUUE!!! OH MY POOR VIOLATED DAUGHTERRRR!!!! I SHOULD HAVE STAYED WITH HERRRRRRR!!!"

"Tamaki, I suggest you keep your voice down. The club opens in half an hour and there will probably be customers milling about. Such sensitive information should be kept within these four walls." He raised his eyebrow pointedly at the twins. "And this applies to you two, of course."

"Ah-aahhh, Kyouya-senpai!" The twins pouted indignantly and stomped off, presumably to find their own amusement at the other end of the room.

"I don't have to list the repercussions of one moment's indiscretion, do I?"

Kyouya sighed as he continued typing the latest Host Club designation demographics into his laptop. It was certainly a dramatic way to start the week. Tamaki had burst into the Third Music Room an hour before, only to cling to the walls in melodramatic horror at the news he had received yesterday. He had gazed woefully at Kyouya who figured he was probably bemoaning the fact that his phone call had ended prematurely.

Although he had cited work as a legitimate excuse to get Tamaki's whining off his back, he had to admit that he had been more than a little perturbed at Mori's little sleepover session. His spreadsheets had been far from his mind as he put away his notebooks and shut himself in his living room. He had turned his state-of-the-art sound system on and increased the volume of his favourite arias in an attempt to drown out the incessant noise in his head. Kyouya was rarely disturbed by the events around him, but knowing that the girl he cared for deeply had spent the night in the arms of another was another kettle of fish altogether.

It was beyond disturbing. It was gut-wrenching.

Naturally, the detached third son had not displayed his emotions at all. His countenance had never betrayed him, even when his father had berated him with the harshest of words, cutting remarks that could cause even the most stoic of his partners to cringe. Kyouya had neither flinched nor wavered. He had schooled his expression at his sister's wedding even though he wanted to bawl like a baby, knowing he would not share the same proximity with her ever again. He was steel, because it was advantageous to have such fortitude in his dealings with ruthless businessmen.

He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loved Haruhi in that own warped way of his. He thought himself incapable of the act, but he had miscalculated the effect she had on him. As he stared at the pencil he had broken, scraping their jagged ends along his palm in thought, he had come to the conclusion that he had to wrench Haruhi away somehow if she was to become his.

He glanced at Tamaki, who had retreated to the Alcove and was mumbling incoherently to himself, obviously still traumatised. He appeared ready to dive into the same abyss that had claimed him when Kasanoda Ritsu had unwittingly seen Haruhi in her skivvies, something that no one had ever set their eyes on before. He had blown the entire matter out of proportion of course, but that was just his way of coping with his emotions. There was going to be an issue with him if Kyouya decided to make the first move. He had helped Tamaki bring his message across when Haruhi behaved foolishly at the beach. If another chance came along for such manner of "teaching", he would not hesitate at all. It would not be something born of pure intentions however. He wondered what Tamaki would say if he knew the direction his own best friend's thoughts had taken.

The twins were whispering at the far corner of the room. Kyouya could tell from the sympathetic expression on Kaoru's face that Hikaru himself was having a difficult time of his own. He had known that the latter had a schoolboy crush on Haruhi. It remained to be seen whether he would do anything about it. _Probably throw a tantrum like he did the last time with Arai_, Kyouya surmised, none too worried about the older Hitachiin. He still had a long way to go for the Ootori to consider him a real competitor.

The sound of the door opening had Kyouya jerking his head swiftly to see who it was.

Haruhi. She walked in oblivious to the gazes of the four club members present.

He would speak with her, both for the benefit of Host Club profits and also for her personal safety. While he was certain that Mori was a gentleman, he knew she needed yet another lecture about her guilelessness with men. "Haruhi," he beckoned and stood. "A word, if you please."

She tilted her head inquisitively, but followed him silently to the change room. He opened the door, ushered her in and shut it firmly.

Then locked it.

"Kyouya-senpai?" Haruhi turned her glossy brown eyes upon him, once again with a quizzical expression on her face. "What are you…"

"What needs to be said here, Haruhi," he interjected abruptly, "will remain in this room. You will listen until I am done, after which you are free to express your opinions in any manner you see fit."

She nodded, no doubt sparing a thought for her mounting debt. He congratulated himself on that sheer stroke of genius at the beginning of the school year.

"I heard, Haruhi, from Tamaki, that Mori-senpai spent the night with you in your home after the party, _alone_. Is that correct or should I assume that Tamaki has once again taken leave of his senses?"

"Mori-senpai stayed," she responded almost immediately. Once again, without guile. _What a carefree admission_, he thought.

"I see." He had considered the miniscule possibility that this was the result of Tamaki's overactive imagination. Apparently, it was not.

He advanced upon her slowly, with a purposeful expression on his face. Mildly alarmed, she shuffled backwards into the round marble table in the middle of the room. Its cold edge pressed against the small of her back as he stopped a mere hair's breadth away from her. He looked down into wide brown eyes.

The gleam off his glasses was blinding. She blinked as he removed them. "Do you remember that little altercation you had with Tamaki at the beach?"

She gulped and nodded. His fathomless eyes held hers.

"Well, consider this an extension of that lesson," he purred as he slid his arm around her waist and trailed his lips along her earlobe down to her jaw. Her skin was smooth and fragrant. He allowed himself a small extravagance by nuzzling her nape.

Haruhi inhaled sharply and pressed her small hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away. "Kyou…"

That tiny utterance was his undoing. He crushed her against his chest firmly, gazed into her eyes past hooded lids and devoured her lips passionately. Unable to escape, Haruhi remained impassive and let him have his way. When he came up for air, she wrested her arm from the confines of his embrace and took a deep breath.

Then, she slapped him.

Hard.

He released her immediately, the stinging sensation across his cheek causing his eyes to widen. He had lost control, when it was of utmost importance that he remain _in_ control. Where was the Ootori in him? As much as he regretted his lapse in judgement, he honestly relished the texture of her lips beneath his. They were soft and supple, and tasted faintly of strawberries. While Kyouya did not expect Haruhi to return his ardour, he had not expected such a violent reaction. _What did you expect? You kissed her, for all intents and purposes to teach her a lesson_.

"Haruhi. I apologise." He looked at her, mask once again in place. "That was completely uncalled for."

She was trembling. "I should think so. When I said you were kind the last time, I meant it. However, I have no idea what possessed you to do such a thing. I never thought you would go this far _just to teach me a lesson_!"

"You need to realise that it is not appropriate for a young lady such as yourself to allow men into your home. It is _not safe_." He folded his arms across his chest and levelled her with his gaze.

She stared back defiantly. "That was _Mori-senpai_, in case you didn't notice."

She was extremely beguiling, even when she was angry. Perhaps even more so. "And in case _you_ haven't noticed, Mori-senpai is a hot-blooded male. One who appears to care about you at that." He snorted softly. "Or are your observation skills only operational when dealing with others and not yourself?"

Haruhi blinked. "You mean…"

"Mori-senpai," Kyouya drawled as he once again closed the distance between them, "is _in love with you_."

She blinked once more. "Ehhh???"

He smiled coolly, leaned down and whispered in her ear. "And so am I."

-----

It was almost as if she had left her physical body and was watching the events unfold before her very eyes. Haruhi felt distinctly out of sorts. In fact, she was almost in another world. It remained to be seen whether it was a good thing. She sneaked a glance at Mori who was once again with Hani in the company of their regulars. He appeared as he always did, quite unlike a person who was supposedly in love with her. Then again, Mori rarely gave his emotions or thoughts away like Hikaru did. The very same Hitachiin who was surreptitiously throwing imaginary daggers at Mori and failing miserably.

So they had all heard. From Tamaki no less, Kaoru had mentioned just as she exited from the change room with Kyouya in her wake. He had strode in the direction of the washroom while she had lingered behind to make the necessary preparations for hosting her clients.

"Are you quite alright, Haruhi-kun?"

She directed her attention to her designator, a feminine little thing in braids. "Ah, not really. I have a bit of a headache coming on." She prayed that the little white lie would not send her into the pits of hell.

"A headache!?!! Haru-chan! Haru-chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!" Haruhi winced inwardly as Hani came barrelling towards her, stuffed rabbit in tow. She had no doubt that Mori had heard about her false malady as well.

She glanced at him. He was gazing at her with concern. Then he stood and made his way over. She flushed lightly. The girls around her took that to mean that she was on the verge of keeling over and hovered incessantly. She was about to shout for help when she felt strong hands wrap around her waist.

Of course it was Mori. It was always Mori-senpai who rescued her at times like this. He cradled her to his chest instinctively. "Tamaki, Kyouya. I'm going to take Haruhi home."

He strode to the storeroom where their bags were and scooped up theirs with ease. Clearly, he had no intention of returning.

"Mori-senpai, you can put me down. I can walk."

"No."

Mori continued walking in silence, out the Third Music Room, through the lavish corridors. He had no idea what had transpired between Kyouya and Haruhi, but he knew something had changed when she walked out of that room with Kyouya right behind her. Her countenance had appeared as sunny as always, but her eyes had been troubled. He had deduced that it was quite likely that it had something to do with his little overnight sojourn. The Shadow King probably had some choice things to say about profit and decorum and whatever else. He had not spoken to Mori, however, for reasons unknown.

Haruhi watched in alarm as Mori strode out of the school compounds and down the street. "Mori-senpai, where are you going?"

"To the nearest park. So you can talk."

She remained silent.

"You can't keep anything from me," he continued as if to provide an explanation for his inexplicable behaviour. His arm tightened around her.

He set her down as soon as they reached a secluded spot in the park, by a bubbling fountain. The sound of cascading water was soothing. He sat and gazed at her expectantly.

Haruhi contemplated the extent with which she should explain things to Mori. She wanted to tell him exactly what Kyouya had done, but there was also the issue of what he had said. _It would be best not to keep anything from him_, she decided firmly after a minute's contemplation. He could practically read her mind and would never be satisfied with mere platitudes meant to assure him of her wellbeing. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. _Mother in heaven, help me_. She inhaled deeply.

"Kyouya-senpai wanted to speak to me. About that night. The one where you stayed over," she began. He nodded encouragingly. "I thought he wanted to give me a lecture about it, or threaten me with more debt should I be less careful with… err… relations."

She stared at her hands in her lap, a little unsure of how to continue and what Mori's reaction would be. His hand reached over and clasped hers, squeezing her fingers gently. "Well… he kissed me. Quite forcefully in fact."

Mori caressed the back of her palm with his thumb. He had sworn to himself that he would not react or say anything until she had finished and by golly he would keep to his word. Even though he wanted to yell at Kyouya and pound the living daylights out of him for taking such liberties with her.

"I slapped him of course," she said almost proudly, grinning although her eyes continued to remain troubled. "He said that I had no concept of male-female relationships and that you are a 'hot-blooded male'. I'm supposed to know better."

He coughed at this. Little did Haruhi know how right Kyouya was. It had taken a substantial amount of energy to keep his hands where they were supposed to be that night. That had worked in his favour, however, since he fell asleep rather quickly with her in his arms. To date it was his most treasured memory. "That is… quite… true, Haruhi."

"Hmm. Now that you've admitted it, it seems like I haven't considered that much at all, have I? I should be more careful. Since everyone worries about me."

He nodded.

"He also told me something else, Mori-senpai." Haruhi slanted him a glance. "He said that you are in love with me. And that he is also."

Mori blinked. "Ah."

He had not expected that from Kyouya. Granted, under normal circumstances, he would have expected him to admit to his own feelings grudgingly, but to declare it? And to declare that someone else loved her? That would work against him, would it not? That was too much, even for the Shadow King. Perhaps the stress had caused him to lose his faculties.

"Is it true, Mori-senpai?"

He swallowed hard. "I don't know about Kyouya. I believe you should take whatever he says about his feelings seriously."

He was hedging, she realised. So it was something Kyouya had imagined then. "What about you," she pressed, "how do you feel? I think I deserve to know, after all that I've been through today."

"I…"

She held her breath.

"It's true, what Kyouya said. I care very much for you, Haruhi." There was not much point in denying it. He was a terrible liar and Haruhi knew him well enough to know when he was nursing a falsehood.

Her curious expression encouraged him to continue.

"You must be wondering why I haven't said anything," he smiled warmly. "Actually, I did not intend to at all." He released her hand. "I would rather you approached me of your own accord. I never want to put you in a position where you feel torn or feel like you have to choose someone over me. I don't want you to experience any guilt. You should be free."

Her eyes widened.

"Of course I was hoping that you would notice. I thought I had made it rather obvious."

She grinned sheepishly and he placed a hand on her head. "It's fine, Haruhi. Cluelessness is endearing. Decide when you are ready or not at all."

Her countenance softened and for once in her life she really truly looked at him.

"Thank you, Mori-senpai."

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**Author's Note(s):**

How shocked were you by the turn of events? That's something I'd like to know, whether what Kyouya did was expected or not. No apologies to Kyouya fans for making him out to be some uncontrollable maniac. Considering he was capable of flipping a table over in Episode 24 when he was upset with Tamaki, I think this guy has got some RAAWRRR inside of him waiting to surface. He suppresses it too much, which is why it comes out... well... wrong.

Poor Kyouya. He's probably kicking himself right now.

Haruhi is still rather clueless regarding her own feelings and Mori is more talkative (because it is about something of import), but he is wonderfully sweet.

More character development and excitement to follow, naturally! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! X3


	11. Evaluation of Perspectives

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all my readers who have had the tenacity to read through every single chapter. Thanks!

Have a great 2007 people**  
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**Chapter 11 // Evaluation of Perspectives**

Kyouya watched as Mori walked out with Haruhi in his arms. He knew that she was feeling under the weather, though certainly not nursing a legitimate headache. Rather it was clearly a repercussion from his actions previously. He had no idea what had possessed him then. Surely he was incapable of surrendering his honed faculties to his emotions.

He had really done it this time, he groaned to no one in particular as the door clicked shut. He might as well have handed her to Mori on a silver platter. His lapse in judgement would cost him dearly. The fear that she would never speak to him again was overwhelming.

Once again, this was a first. Losing something had never mattered to him, he had always possessed alternative plans waiting in the wings either to wrench it back or to gain something far better than what he had lost. This time, there was no one better, no one he wanted more than the shomin girl who gave him lip whenever she could get away with it. The girl who could read his intentions and who saw right through his façade.

"Kyouya-sama," one of his regulars murmured as she brought him a cup of tea and some scones, "have some light refreshment."

He smiled winningly. "Thank you, princess. How remiss of me to let you serve me instead."

She dimpled.

He was rapidly losing his business acumen. At the rate he was going, the club would be in the red fairly soon. He glanced at Tamaki, who was rather lacklustre than usual despite the expansive hand gestures and ornate phrasing. He had the girls in a tizzy, but his eyes betrayed some strain. The twins had stepped up their act in a bid to remain as impassive as possible, but the creases that appeared on their foreheads from time to time meant that they were worried. About Haruhi, no doubt.

Thankfully, there was a scant half hour left before the club closed its doors. Kyouya would usher their clients out with relief. Accounts would be left for another day. There was somewhere he had to go.

-----

"I'm home," she said to no one in particular as she opened her apartment door. Mori had left her at the bottom of her condominium block and had made his own way home. She had a sneaking suspicion that he would be peeking nearby to ensure that she entered her apartment safely. Turning around, she smiled and waved. She knew he would see it even though she had no idea where he was.

"Welcome home my precious daughter!" Her father engulfed her in his arms and rubbed his cheek against her hair.

"Dad? Shouldn't you be at work?" She removed her shoes and placed them neatly by the kitchen step, smoothly escaping her father's clutches.

Ranka made a face. "You're always so cold, Haruhi! I took the day off upon hearing that you were somewhat worse for wear!"

"You shouldn't have to worry about me, Dad. I'm capable of taking care of myself." She retreated to her room for a change of clothes.

"But Kyouya-kun called and he was most worried!"

So Kyouya was the one who had called. Haruhi paused mid-ablutions. She wondered what on earth his intentions were. As if kissing her was not enough, now he was calling her home citing an interest in her wellbeing? She contemplated the notion of never speaking to him again, but for the life of her, he was _Kyouya_. And even if she did not want to admit it, Kyouya had a special place in her heart as did all the other hosts. He did occupy the darkest corner however.

"What's the matter, Haruhi-chaaaaaaaan? Talk to Daddyyyyy!"

With the ceaseless pounding and scraping that was going on in an ironic parody of Tamaki's usual antics, Haruhi knew she would never hear the end of it unless she relented. She was destined to be surrounded by idiots. Idiots, who she loved dearly, but who were idiots nonetheless.

She slid open the door to find her father beating his fist on the tatami mat in abject distress at the coolness with which his darling daughter was treating him. How was he different from Tamaki again? "You can stop now. I'll talk."

Ranka made his way to the table and sat up brightly. "Now, what happened in school Haruhi-chan?"

"Ah, so Kyouya-senpai didn't tell you anything?" In truth, she had not expected him to. Regardless of what he had done, she was fairly sure that he would not want Ranka on a warpath. Especially since he had put so much effort into remaining in her father's good graces. Ranka thought the world of Ootori Kyouya, much to her chagrin.

"No. Was there something he should have said?" Her father narrowed his eyes. He was getting suspicious. Of course she would not divulge the true reason behind her disquiet. That would be sheer folly. Hosting women until she graduated from university was far from appealing.

"No, not really. It's just that, well... put it this way… what would you do if two people who you know really well, from my perspective of course, confessed their love for you. In a way."

Ranka brightened slightly. "Oh! Is Haruhi in love? Which two is it? Kyouya-kun and Takashi-kun? Or did harebrained Tamaki finally say something?"

"EHHH???"

"What, you mean Daddy is way off the mark?"

"What was that about Tamaki-senpai again?"

Ranka smirked. "That idiot of all idiots? Haruhi, you need to be more observant. He's quite irrevocably in love with you. Can't you tell?"

She sighed. This was worse than she had anticipated. She was not equipped to handle this. She had years ahead of her for all this relationship nonsense, so why was she starting now? It was entirely premature. "Well, he keeps going on that father-daughter spiel…"

"That's why he's a complete idiot. For goodness sake Haruhi, anyone but him. I can't imagine how your children would turn out." He grimaced. The thought of Haruhi married and with child was too painful to contemplate, but Ranka had conceded that some relationship issues would eventually surface since she was constantly surrounded by a group of handsome males. As long as he kept a watchful eye over his one and only adorable Haruhi, the most exquisite fruit of his loins, he would be able to delay the advancement of the inevitable somewhat. "By your reaction, I presume the two that confessed were Kyouya-kun and Takashi-kun?"

"Sort of. Err… Kyouya-senpai sort of confessed on Mori-senpai's behalf…"

"WHAT???" Her father's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "I thought he was smarter than that," he muttered, "what a dumbass. He loses major points for this. I must inform Misuzu of the decline in Kyouya stocks. How totally _not_ refreshing."

"DAAAAAAAD!!" She blinked. "Hey, wait… how on earth did you know about those two?"

Ranka grinned and stroked his chin. "Oh, I have my ways daughter dear, I have my ways."

She groaned. "Dad, this is not the time to withhold information. I'm in a pinch here."

"Oh alright. Actually, Kyouya-kun volunteered to check in on you at the supermarket on many occasions and has always found ways to increase your debt. And I know he's been buttering me up. I think he wants you to remain in the Host Club, dear. But naturally, you had no idea."

"He's been stalking me?"

"Ensuring that you run your errands safely, yes. Ah, what a thoughtful boy Kyouya-kun is."

_If he's that thoughtful, he probably would have thought twice about it before he kissed me. _Clearly, Ranka was extremely biased.

"And Mori-senpai?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you. And also," he grinned slyly, "the way you act around him."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, Haruhi-chan!" He dimpled, flipping his hair over his shoulder. "You just follow your heart. You'll know when you're meant to."

Some help her father was. There were now not two, but three individuals whose sole purpose in life was to complicate things for her, the aspiring lawyer. Tamaki, Kyouya and Mori. If relationships were meant to be like this she would rather not bother with them at all. She was far too young to think of such things. Haruhi had had her life all planned out. She had a dream, her mother's legacy, to fulfil. She was not going to be able to do that with such distractions. _I should just ignore everyone. Or shut myself in a nunnery_.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the doorbell. Ranka rose and pranced to open it. Haruhi hoped it was not the local delivery boy. Her father always invited him in for tea and a conversation, but she was not in the mood to entertain anyone much less another of her father's "kindred spirits".

"Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!! It's for yooooooouuuu!!!" Ranka clapped his hands in delight. "Sign for it please!" He grasped the small beribboned Styrofoam box and sashayed into the living room.

Haruhi sighed. _It had better not be some bribe from Kyouya-senpai_.

"Hurry, hurry! Open it open it open ittttttt!!!!!!!! Perhaps it's from one of your many admirers!!" Ranka waggled his brows suggestively.

She rolled her eyes and glanced apologetically at the delivery boy who was trying his best to hide his amusement. She signed for the package with a flourish, grateful to usher the sniggering youngster out the door. She sat, deep in thought as she stared at the box. Whatever it was, she hoped sincerely that there would be no nasty surprises.

She removed the ribbon and pried open the tightly sealed lid gingerly. Light vapour started rising. It was cold. Fanning it aside with the lid, she peered in to discover two boxes of strawberries and a small card. She turned picked up the embossed paper and flipped it over.

Her eyes widened. "Because… you… like them…" she mumbled. The words were written in neat flourished script.

She gasped. "Mori-senpai?" _Was he courting her?_

-----

"That was sweet of you Takashi," Hani smiled broadly as he watched Mori slice his way through mock targets.

"Ah."

"So you're pretty serious now?"

He paused mid-stroke. "Yes. But I don't want to stress her though."

Hani grinned. "Haru-chan loves strawberries, doesn't she? And Takashi loves Haru-chan, doesn't he?" He tossed his stuffed rabbit in the air and caught it with ease.

Mori set his katana down and stretched. "I do. You send me so many crates each time, Mitsukuni. I would love to give all of them to her, but it would be too much." He frowned. "Maybe I shouldn't have sent her those two boxes. She needs some time to think without any interference."

"I'm sure Haru-chan won't feel that way. You're not asking for anything in return."

Mori smiled as he grasped the hilt for another round of exercises. "Not yet."

-----

"Oh dear, dear, dear, Kyouya-san," Fuyumi clucked, pouring her brother another glass of orange juice from what appeared to be an endless supply from the jug in the refrigerator. Perhaps she had a fountain somewhere in her expansive backyard.

"Fuyumi-neesan, I came for advice, not to drink myself silly."

"Ah hahahaha, Kyouya-san, that's so funny! You can't get drunk on pure orange juice! Silly boy!" She ruffled his hair, much to his annoyance. Sometimes he sincerely wished she would stop treating him like an amusing, inept five year old.

He sat on the luxurious velvet sofa, a maroon and lace accessory that looked strikingly out of place in the spacious minimalistic living room. "So what should I do?"

"Ah, Kyouya-san… you have painted yourself into a little corner haven't you? You poor, poor boy."

Regardless of the number of times Fuyumi had been told that he did not enjoy being pitied or being fawned over like some poor lost duckling, she had never failed to express her sympathy in a fashion that was most unbecoming to him. It was just her nature and Kyouya had resigned himself to it.

"We have established that. But what _I am asking_ is what needs to be done to remedy the situation?"

"Remedy the situation?"

He sighed. "Well, yes. I would like her to continue her work with the club and also to speak with me on a regular basis," he drawled dryly. "I don't want her running in the other direction."

Fuyumi considered this for an inordinate amount of time. He waited, trailing his fingertips on the exterior surface of the glass, catching droplets of condensation as he went along. The etiquette lessons he had had since he was a child had instilled in him the fortitude that allowed him to refrain from fidgeting, but today's little meeting was in a completely different setting which allowed him to express himself uninhibitedly. Moreover, Fuyumi was the queen of restlessness, as evidenced by the bits of patterns and sewing strewn about the carpet which he was sure she had alternated between before he arrived unceremoniously at her home begging an audience. He chuckled briefly as he recalled the days when she used to visit his room in an attempt to tidy his drawers.

"Unless I'm mistaken, from what you've relayed to me about Fujioka-san, she is not the type of girl that would withdraw from you just because of a little mistake."

"What I've been trying to impress upon you the entire hour that I've been here, Fuyumi-neesan, is that this is _not_ a little mistake. It is a _sizeable error_ on my part. One which I regretted immediately…"

"Ah, ah, ah! Don't let her hear you say that you regretted kissing her!"

He groaned and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I meant, I regretted the action of kissing her before I thought about its consequences. I thoroughly enjoyed the kiss while it lasted, let me assure you of that."

"Oh oh, Kyouya-san has grown up!"

The subject of her little remark questioned, for the umpteenth time, his sanity in approaching his delightful sister for assistance. He loved his sister dearly but at times, he wondered whether his brothers would be better bets for aid in such matters.

"Are you even thinking about how _she_ must feel, Kyouya-san?"

The soft question startled him out of his reverie. "What do you mean?"

She smiled gently. "What you have told me thus far has centred on what _you_ want. _You_ want her to remain your friend, perhaps even more than that. _You_ want her in the club. _You_ want her to forgive you." She paused, holding his gaze. "It's not all about you, Kyouya-san. Do remember that."

He stared at the glass in his hands where the orange pulp floated in suspension without a care in the world. "Perhaps," he mumbled the cogs in his mind beginning to whirr, "I have been going about this the wrong way."

* * *

**Author Note(s):**

I bet you guys are wondering when the date with Tamaki will materialise. It will, trust me. I wanted more development in the minds of Haruhi and Kyouya.

Have I said I love Mori? He's just too sweet for words. XD


	12. The Dog Days of Spring

Apologies for the length of time since the last update. The new semester has started and I'm back to my busy schedule. I can't promise ridiculously frequent updates anymore, although I'll try to have something up every fortnight.

For those who have been waiting, this is the Tamaki date episode. Yes, I finally decided it was time for more Tono. XD**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 12 // The Dog Days of Spring**

Haruhi sighed as she plucked her swimsuit from the depths of her closet. It was a simple dark blue one-piece, with a matching sheer wrap in orchid print that her father had bought approximately a year back. He would have purchased his favourite choice, a saccharine pink confection with its own little skirt, had she not sworn she would never speak to him again if he did so. It had been some time since she used her own swimsuit since joining the club as the twins always dressed her up for their outings. She suspected that this little plain number would not have been spared from their sewing shears had they set their golden eyes on it. They would not be present for the day's activities, however, which was a relief.

The school week had crawled by. Haruhi had managed to evade Kyouya smoothly on a number of occasions when he had tried to speak with her alone. Although she did not mind conversations with him in a group setting, the thought of repeating the exact same scenario left little to be desired. She did not want to be kissed by him. Not as some sort of warning as to how she should behave with regards to the opposite sex. Had she not told Tamaki before that gender was not the issue but what was inside a person that counted? Perhaps she should have yelled that into Kyouya's ear for all the good it would do. He was as stubborn as she.

And what was that about him being in love with her?

She snorted in a fashion that would have had Tamaki cringing at her unladylike behaviour. As she stuffed her large beach towel into her tote, she shoved aside her thoughts on the matter. Thinking about it was not going to aid matters and she would probably have enough to deal with today.

Tamaki had reminded her about their date two nights before, stuttering on occasion during the conversation over the phone, most notably when discussing her attire. Not that Haruhi had noticed of course. She had been far too preoccupied with the notion of going to the beach in the spring along with Tamaki and his canine clone, Antoinette. She sincerely hoped he would be able to control her.

A tranquilizer dart might be in order.

Or two.

As daunting as the date seemed, Haruhi loved the beach. She enjoyed watching the crystal clear waters ebb and flow. It soothed her senses and allowed her to set aside the things that weighed her down in the real world if only for a brief moment.

The doorbell rang. She smiled to herself as she slung her beach bag over her shoulder and strode to the kitchen. She would have to make the best of it. Tamaki was a sweet guy and she did have some regard for him, despite his tendency towards dramatics.

She swung the door open rather happily.

"Ohhh my precious daughter!!!" Tamaki wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you agreed to go out on a date with me!"

_Mother in heaven…_

"Well, senpai, it's supposed to be your birthday present." She peered over his shoulder. "Where's Antoinette?"

Tamaki pouted. "Shima said she'd ruin the car upholstery if she was let loose. She'd bother the driver too, so she's in a cage in the back." He sniffled, eyes tearing at the perceived inhumane mistreatment that his cherished pooch had undergone at the hands of his housekeeper.

"That's only practical," she smiled and patted his shoulder, "let's get going. The faster we get there, the sooner she'll be free to enjoy the offerings of nature."

He brightened considerably at that and took her hand. "Senpai, I have to lock up."

_Offerings of nature?_ She chuckled inwardly. Tamaki was a greater influence than she had realised. Strangely enough, she had meant what she had said. She loved animals, but it was far too troublesome to keep them, especially when no one was home much. While she loved the capriciousness of most dogs, Antoinette was special. Maybe because she reminded her of Tamaki.

He released her sheepishly. "Sorry. And… umm…" he mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. "CouldyoujustcallmeTamaki?"

"But you're my senpai," she protested.

He looked extremely woebegone. It was an expression he reserved for situations that required drastic measures. "But we're friends, aren't we?" He blinked beguilingly.

Regardless of the fact that Haruhi was more than familiar with his entire repertoire of Puppy-dog Pleas as Hikaru and Kaoru had called them and was able to resist his appeals for the most part, she found herself nodding in agreement. It was not so much the lack of fortitude on her part, but rather she found some degree of logic in what he had said.

Suou Tamaki had somehow wormed his way into her circle of close friends. She had not expected it at all, since she did find him annoying at times. He did care for her, however, and had moved beyond being "someone she knew" to someone whom she confided in quite freely and regularly.

She watched as he clapped his hands happily and bounded down the stairs to the waiting car. "Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!! Let's go!" He had her bag slung across his shoulder and was now waving frantically with both arms, his excitement stirring Antoinette who was barking hysterically and rattling the cage with her paws as a result.

They had never appeared more alike in temperament than at that moment. She grinned and hurried to the limousine.

-----

"Haruhi! Haruhi, Haruhi! Watch this!"

She raised her head from the book she was reading and propped her head up with a bent arm. Tamaki swung his arm in a wide arc and threw Antoinette's favourite squeaky toy as far out into the sea as he could. His canine was perched in front of him, tail thumping expectantly. He bent down and stared into her bright intelligent eyes.

"Okay, Antoinette… readyyyyyyyy... GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

The dog leaped into the air, fur ruffling with the swift turn of her body as she made a huge splash into the cold water, paddling her way to the floating toy. The red rubber bone had already been chewed within an inch of its life and was showing great signs of wear, but Antoinette had remained faithful to it. It was the first gift he had given her, something he had bought on his own at another shomin mall across town. She had other toys of course, but it was by far her favourite.

As Tamaki stood and watched his loyal friend grasp the plaything with a squeak, he marvelled at how similar they were.

He glanced at Haruhi who appeared to be entranced by Antoinette herself. He had no idea why she enjoyed watching the waves or reading a book by the beach when one could swim beneath the golden sun. Granted, it was still a little cold, but he had been prepared for that by instructing his driver to set up a quiet little generator that provided enough electricity for a heater, should there have been a need for one.

Haruhi had scoffed at this and muttered something about the rich and their propensity towards needless extravagance. He had not been affronted since he was far less delicate than before regarding her blunt retorts, but had told her warmly that it was there _for her_ and to utilise it if she felt chilled. She then said thank you _Tamaki_ with an adorable little grin and he had ascended to the clouds instantly only to be yanked down rather unceremoniously seconds later by Antoinette who was clamouring for attention.

"She's cute," his companion remarked as Antoinette emerged from the water and trotted over, dropping the rubber bone and shaking herself dry. Droplets of water sprinkled across her face and she shut her book, shoving it into her tote.

She stood and made her way over to the canine, who was panting with her tongue lolling about, clearly exhausted. She stooped and ruffled her fur at the nape then scratched her on the head.

Antoinette flopped to the sand in contentment as Haruhi lavished her with attention, tail once again thumping slowly.

Tamaki pondered his options. He had requested for a date as a birthday present for two reasons. One, he wanted to spend time with her alone, where he would not have to bear Kyouya's eyes training on her when he thought no one was looking or the secret smiles that Mori would send her way when they worked together in synchronous harmony. They caused such an ache in his chest, something he wanted to be liberated from if only for a day. Two, he wanted to truly talk to her. Maybe he would confess how he felt, maybe not. He had not decided, nor had he planned exactly what he was going to say. He usually went with the flow of things and even though it was a matter of the heart, he doubted he would change the approach. He was not his best friend after all.

He knew most of his friends thought he was a bumbling idiot who engaged in flights of fancy and ludicrous schemes whenever he felt like it. It was not a mask he had deliberately crafted, but merely one facet of his multicoloured personality that was more illustrious in nature. It drew people to him, even though half the time they were assuaged with curiosity as to how far he would go with his antics. No, Tamaki was not a schemer. He was frank and honest and loved life exuberantly.

If personalities were colours, Kyouya's would be a deep royal blue, Mori's rich maroon, Hikaru's a bright cyan, Kaoru's vermillion, Hani's a fresh yellow-green and Haruhi a practical tan. But the King, the King was a veritable rainbow of colours. He smiled, eyes turning a deep violet from their usual lighter hue as he gazed at Haruhi who was absently stroking Antoinette behind her ears.

She had emerged from her special pink cabana an hour earlier, which he had set up himself to the amazement of his driver, in what he presumed to be her very own swimsuit and matching wrap. His hand had snapped to his nose right then and he had blushed beet red, the former in an attempt to curb the imminent spray of hot-bloodedness from a capillary and the latter from the rush of said hot-bloodedness to the head. It was a simple beach outfit and yet he had been rendered speechless. She was quite, quite beautiful in whatever she wore.

Unable to resist, he walked over and sat beside her. "Are you hungry, Haruhi?"

"No, not yet." She gave him a gentle smile and continued stroking Antoinette who now had her head on her paws and was gazing at her adoringly. "She's tired. You've worn her out completely."

"Yeah, well…" he combed his hair through with his fingertips and grinned sheepishly. "It's good exercise for us both. I think the help has been feeding her snacks on the sly."

They petted the dog in comfortable silence. On rare occasions such as these, words were meaningless. Haruhi wondered when it was that Tamaki had begun spending time with her in comfortable silence, instead of going on about this or that. He had either matured somewhat or was comfortable enough to not have to fill the stillness with speech. While she admitted that he was pretty much an idiot in certain things, Tamaki was an intelligent individual, with great insight at times into the lives of others. Even hers.

"Is there something bothering you? You haven't been yourself this past week."

So he had noticed. "It's nothing really."

"It can't be nothing if you're visibly bothered. You can tell me, if you want to that is. Sometimes it's better to get it off your chest," he said gently.

It was difficult to broach the topic even though she wanted to share her troubles with him. He had always reacted badly even to unverified knowledge that there were other males who were interested in her. What would he say if he knew that his own best friend had kissed her and confessed his feelings? Not that she believed it entirely of course. It was only natural that she maintained a healthy dose of scepticism where Kyouya was concerned.

"Tamaki…"

"Hmm?"

"What would you do if someone you knew said she loved you?"

He glanced at her. So that was the issue. He should have guessed. Was it Mori? Or had Kyouya decided to stake his claim this early in the game? Tamaki decided to ask. "Mori-senpai?"

She blinked at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Ehhh?"

He smiled brightly. "It's quite obvious, you know. He keeps giving you special looks. I'd always known he wanted my fatherly position."

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "I seriously doubt that."

Tamaki laughed and combed his fringe artfully with his fingers. Despite the elegance of his movement, it was not as carefree as it had always been. His eyes were troubled. "So it was Mori-senpai after all then?"

He knew he was delving far deeper than was advisable, but for the life of him, he could not resist the sweet temptation. Perhaps he would find out what the others were up to or where her heart lay even. Maybe it was better to know rather than to remain in the dark. They would all move on, whether they wanted to or not, in whatever direction circumstances would take them.

His companion looked at him. "Not… quite…" She heaved a huge sigh. "I'm not sure whether I should tell you. Frankly, it might be traumatising. I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

He pouted. "B-b-but Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!! I want to knoooow!!!"

She laughed. Tamaki was Tamaki. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely!" He nodded vigorously, sending his blonde locks cascading all over his handsome face. "Please???"

He swallowed as she levelled him with her gaze. "Promise me you won't go crazy."

"I promise," he replied with more confidence than he felt. His stomach was in knots and his heart was thudding furiously in his chest. He gripped her hands in his. "I want to be there for you, Haruhi."

She looked at his slender masculine fingers. Fingers that danced beautifully on both ivory and ebony keys of the piano, without callus or any blemish. She squeezed them in return, as if to reassure him.

"About a week ago, Kyouya-senpai told me that Mori-senpai was in love with me. And said that he was too. Which is rather unbelievable. Kyouya-senpai being in love with me I mean."

Tamaki willed his fingers to stop trembling. Kyouya had confessed after all.

"It's worse than that," Haruhi continued, frowning. "Kyouya-senpai kissed me and _then_ said all that."

"W-W-WHAT!?!!" It was Haruhi's first kiss with the opposite sex and it was not he, but his best friend Ootori Kyouya, who had stolen it?

"I didn't like it at all. He forced it on me. I think it was to teach me a lesson, like that other time at the beach house."

"WHAT WAS THAT AGAIN!?!!" Twice? Had Kyouya pulled off the ultimate in thievery? Two kisses? And what lesson was Haruhi talking about?

"Tamaki, you promised."

He cleared his throat and relaxed a little. "Right, right, Haruhi. Sorry. Do go on." There had to be more to the story than meets the eye. At least he was hoping there was.

"I think Kyouya-senpai was quite upset that Mori-senpai spent the night. It was nothing though, he was tired. I really don't know what the big deal is." She shrugged.

"Well, Haruhi, Daddy also thinks you ought to be more aware of the opposite sex. Mori-senpai is a nice guy, but there are others out there who aren't."

"Yes, yes, I know." She sighed. "So now, my issue is relating with Kyouya-senpai. I feel very uncomfortable around him."

"And Mori-senpai?"

"Oh, I spoke with him some time back. He said that Kyouya-senpai was right, but that I should do what I wanted, whenever I wanted to." Haruhi grinned. "He's been sending me strawberries everyday since. Dad's been scoffing one box a day, the greedy man."

Tamaki nodded slowly, his throat constricting a little uncomfortably as he registered the bright sparkle in Haruhi's eyes. He was almost sure she felt something for Mori. Why would she not? He was a decent guy who could protect her. They got along well.

"H-H-Haruhi," he began, entwining his fingers with hers.

She looked up at him unblinkingly. "Yes?"

"I-I-I think," he cleared his throat, "that you should do whatever you want to, just like Mori-senpai said. I know that this is probably the not the best time to tell you this, but… I… err, that is…"

He gulped and squeezed his eyes shut, face flushing a gorgeous shade of pink. "I-I-I love you too."

"I know," she smiled gently as he creaked an eyelid open.

"Y-y-you do?"

She bobbed her head adorably and squeezed his hands. "Yes. Actually Dad told me."

"RANKA-SAN???" Ranka detested him with a vengeance, yet he had known how he felt. Perhaps that was the reason for his animosity. The notion of having one's daughter snatched away was painful and something he could concur with. "I… well… I just wanted you to know that's all, Haruhi." He laughed a little sheepishly. "You don't have to say anything."

She beamed and leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes to savour the sound of the waves. "Thank you."

Things had certainly changed, mused Haruhi as she let him wrap an arm around her shoulder to ward off the slight chill of the breeze. For once in his life Tamaki was not demanding anything nor pouting and stamping his foot in indignation in a demonstration of his frustration that things were not going his way. It could have been the calming influence of the sea, or the fact that they were alone together. Whatever it was, it was comfortable and rather nice. Suou Tamaki was a wonderful friend.

"Regarding Kyouya," Tamaki mumbled, gazing across the horizon as he held the girl he loved against his side, "I think you should talk to him to clear things up. I'll be there if you need me."

"Mmm. Okay."

"Talk to me about?"

Haruhi's eyes flew open and she jerked upright almost flopping backwards in the process. Tamaki released her and stood. "Kyouya. What are you doing here?" His voice was surprisingly light and strangely even.

"Shima informed me your location." He pinned Haruhi with his gaze. "I'm here to have a discussion with Haruhi."

She squinted at him and frowned. "It can wait. This is Tamaki's day."

"It's _a very pressing matter_," he emphasised, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose elegantly. "And you have been avoiding me the entire week."

He took a step towards her.

"No."

He looked up in surprise to see Tamaki shielding her from him.

"I thought I heard a 'no', Tamaki."

Tamaki's eyes had taken on a cool purple hue. "That's right Kyouya. I said 'no'."

Kyouya sighed. "I must stress that it is a matter of great importance, which is why I had to travel all the way just to speak with Haruhi. It would be a waste of my precious time to undertake a two hour journey for nothing. Be reasonable, Tamaki."

"I'm being very reasonable. You're not speaking to Haruhi, not until you've heard what I've got to say."

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Yes, Tamaki confessed. Rather adorably actually.

The relationship between Tamaki and Haruhi is different now, partly because Tamaki has matured somewhat, especially when it comes to relating with her. As a result, Haruhi is more tolerant of his antics and does see him as a good friend, enough to want to confide in him a little more. Bear in mind also that he was the first one to know about her fear of thunder.

Personally, I feel that there's more to Tamaki than meets the eye. He's always portrayed as a bumbling idiot who spews flowery prose whenever the situation calls for it (and even when it doesn't). I don't think that's necessarily a front, just who he is... in part. I like the slightly more mature Tamaki here. He's even standing up to Kyouya on Haruhi's behalf. He's a sweet guy and he does love her. Whether it's going to be reciprocated however, is another matter altogether.

Another chapter with some focus on character development, necessary in the big scheme of things. I know you guys have your favourite pairings, but so do I. Just bear with it. XD

Oh yeah, don't give me grief about the colours. That's only my perception of course.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. The next one should be interesting, I think. Especially the dynamics between the best friends. But I wouldn't know -- I haven't wrote it yet. XP


	13. If Only Briefly

Goodness, I finally updated! I'm sorry this took so long. I was in the midst of conceptualising the rest of the story and writers block seized me by the throat. At any rate, here it is.

* * *

**Chapter 13 // If Only Briefly**

There were a number of things that Tamaki wanted to say to the devil incarnate who was seated across the picnic table, arms folded across his chest coolly as if he did not have any care in the world. Truth be told, the blonde was uncharacteristically calm even though he had wanted to punch the living daylights out of Kyouya when he had learnt about what he had done and even more so when he had appeared unbidden to interrupt his date. He watched Haruhi out of the corner of his eye as her small form bent in the distance to pet Antoinette. He had asked her to take the dog for a walk and she had agreed instantaneously. Haruhi feared nothing save for the ominous sound of thunder, but it was clear that she was uncomfortable in Kyouya's presence. He was glad she did not mind his interference in the matter.

Perhaps she knew that he would not be dissuaded regardless of her pleas.

"Well, Tamaki?"

He returned his gaze back to the same inscrutable countenance that he knew so well. His eyes softened. Kyouya was his best friend. He had resolved not to fall out with him over trivial issues, but it was taking an inordinate amount of energy not to resort to typical Tono mode along with the gesturing and yelling that came with it. Tamaki admitted inwardly that he did not wear the mantle of adulthood with ease.

He clenched both hands that were resting on his knees. "Why don't you begin by telling me what's going on, Kyouya?"

Kyouya raised his eyebrow in surprise at Tamaki's gentle tone. If he had heard something from Haruhi, which Kyouya was certain he did, his behaviour was completely inexplicable. He realised that it was pointless to concoct some story in the hopes that it would resolve the situation. Tamaki was ridiculously observant for someone who was perpetually at the pinnacle of idiocy.

"I suppose Haruhi has mentioned something to you…" He paused, observing his companion through his lenses. The metal frame of his glasses sparkled in the sun. It was an intimidation strategy he employed and a convenient prop that served as a reminder of his goals in life. He had taken after his father in that regard.

Tamaki nodded.

The Shadow King leaned forward, interlaced his fingers and propped his chin upon them, resting his elbows on the table. "So you know I kissed her."

The King squeezed the fabric at the hem of his shorts. "Yes," he rasped, then clamped his jaw shut.

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure what came over me then," he sighed, folding his arms and leaning against the back of the chair. "I was upset that she had disregarded the implications of her gender by allowing Mori-senpai to stay the night. Furthermore, she neglected to consider the reputation of the Host Club." He furrowed his brows in thought. "But I do regret my actions. It has made relating with Haruhi extremely unpleasant. She's been running from me. That was, never has been nor will ever be, my intention."

"Haruhi thinks you meant to teach her a lesson. A similar lesson apparently, to the one in Okinawa."

"Ah, about that…"

Tamaki's knuckles were white with strain. He wondered whether it was in his best interest to be fully furnished with every single sordid detail. He raised a hand. "Let's not bring up the past. We've got enough to deal with in the present."

"I'm sorry, Tamaki."

Kyouya, despite his usual cool demeanour, was not entirely immune to Tamaki's discomfort. He felt a stab of guilt at the pained expression in his friend's eyes. The old Tamaki would have screamed betrayal and stomped away in a fit of eloquent fury. Kyouya wished that Tamaki would cease being so… _kind_.

"I'm not the one who needs your apology."

"I know."

"You love her."

It was not a question but a statement, Kyouya realised. "When?"

"I've known for some time now. The way you look at her when you think no one is looking. The dead giveaway was the way she managed to accrue debt for the most inane of reasons. I know you, Kyouya, despite my idiocy." Tamaki smiled. "You and I are rather alike."

His lips twitched. "I remember a certain commoner said that to me once."

"What are you going to do?"

"Apologise. Genuinely. I don't think there's anything else I can do. Haruhi is stubborn."

"I heard that last bit."

The subject of their conversation had wandered into the vicinity, though not by choice. Antoinette had heard her master's voice and had come barrelling. The dog launched herself at Tamaki and toppled him over as Haruhi watched.

"Ahhh hahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa! Antoinette! Missed me huh? Miss me miss me miss me????"

"Again, Haruhi, what do this idiot and I have in common?"

"HEY! That's not funny Kyouyaaaaaaaa hahahahahahahahahahaaaa! Stop it, Antoinette! You're slobbering all over! Ahahahahahahahahaha!"

Haruhi grinned with relish. There was nothing more entertaining than being spectator when Tamaki was badgered by another creature that was almost his mirror image. She had no doubt, however, that Tamaki enjoyed every minute of it. She would probably send him into hysterics if she ever attempted to fawn over him like his canine did.

"Haruhi."

"Yes, Kyouya-senpai?"

"Could I have a word… please?"

She snorted. "When have you ever asked for permission?"

"Haruhi…"

She raised her hands in surrender. There was an edge to his voice that heralded imminent danger should she choose to refuse him. "Alright, alright."

Kyouya observed her silently through his lenses. His tone had affected her, the same way it always did. What was it about his personality that made him use such indirect threats, even with those he cared about? He was the epitome of business sense right to the core, unable to draw clear relational distinctions between social and business spheres.

He took her wrist gently in an attempt to make amends. "Let's go for a walk along the shore."

The King and his loyal canine watched as Haruhi followed his friend's lead. Antoinette laid her head on his chest as he fell back onto the grassy knoll beneath the bright sunshine, shielding his eyes with the back of his arm. "I wonder what he's going to say to her," he mumbled to no one in particular. "I wonder what _she'll_ say in return." He sighed, life's exuberance nowhere in sight.

Antoinette whined and he scratched her behind the ears absently. "I know, I know. At least I'll always have you."

-----

"Well? What is it you wanted to say, Kyouya-senpai?"

Kyouya groaned inwardly. They had left Tamaki and Antoinette behind and had been strolling for the past ten minutes. He had held her wrist loosely the entire time, his eyes never once straying from the path ahead. It was easier to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips to assure him of her presence rather than to set his eyes upon that face knowing the possible unease he might behold if he did.

His fingers slipped reluctantly from her wrist as stared at the waves in the distance, admiring the way the sunlight danced upon it. "I'm sorry, Haruhi."

"What for?"

"For kissing you of course. What else would it be about?" He paused. "You realise this is not easy for me to admit."

She smiled, watching him out of the corner of her eye, hands clasped behind her back. "Ootori and apologising don't get along naturally, do they?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm not going to be paying for this in one way or another am I?"

He grimaced. "Is that what you think of me?"

"Well… if I may be completely honest…"

"You might as well, since you've already begun." His smile was wry. One of the things he loved about Haruhi was her lack of aptitude in diplomacy. It was somewhat ironic that the subject of her bluntness was his very own self. He supposed he did deserve it.

"You're not quite what others perceive you to be, Kyouya-senpai."

The delicate arch of his eyebrow invited her to continue.

"You're hiding behind a mask you've constructed for yourself. I wouldn't say that I'm surprised given your station in life, but I do know that what you consider merits are currently still open to interpretation. At least to the rest of us."

He shrugged. "Is that so?"

"Hmm."

They lapsed into silence once again. The air of unease between them had lifted. Fujioka Haruhi, Kyouya knew, did not hold grudges. That was the least of his worries. He noted the smile playing at the edge of her lips with some satisfaction as a sudden cool breeze ruffled her soft brown hair.

His heart clenched.

It was a sensation somewhat alien to the Ootori heir, despite the increase in its occurrence over the past few days. He made to speak, but thought better of it. For once, Kyouya found himself at a loss for words.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

She was gazing at his profile with liquid chocolate eyes, a quizzical expression emblazoned on her face. He liked it.

In a spur of the moment, he decided to throw caution to the wind. "I meant what I said back then, Haruhi."

His eyes remained fixed on the horizon. The sound of lapping waves soothed the strong thudding of his heart that had become audible to the point where the beats were thrumming in his eardrums. "I don't want you to harbour any misconceptions about that day."

"Misconceptions?" Her head tilted to the side most adorably.

"Yes. I did _not_ kiss you to teach you a lesson. I hate to admit it, but it was a lack of control on my part, something that I hope you'd forgive me for. But I meant what I said after that about… caring."

"I know you do… Kyouya."

Her arm reached out of its own volition and her slender fingers slid around his forearm in reassurance. Her skin was warm and soft despite the cool weather and amount of housework that she was accustomed to. The gesture was his olive branch.

He grasped her hand and squeezed it. "Whatever you do with the information, Haruhi, is up to you. I just wanted you to know." He looked at the feminine hand beneath his and allowed himself to consider what it would be like to have her support for the rest of his life. Somewhere in his vast train of thought, he entertained the notion of trading his entire inheritance for it.

If only briefly.

-----

"Oh, my ethereal princess! If only we were destined to dance in tandem amid the shimmering stars! Yet alas, I must leave you to venture into the dark abyss… alone!" His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and he blinked valiantly to keep them at bay.

"Ohhh Tamaki-sama!"

It was business as usual in the Third Music Room. Two weeks had passed since Kyouya had spoken to Haruhi at the beach and things were more or less back to normal. If one could possibly think that of the antics that went on in the Host Club on a regular basis.

Tamaki had once again insisted on revisiting the medieval theme, much to Kyouya's displeasure as it was extremely troublesome to rent quality heavy armour which was simultaneously uncomfortable to put on. But the King had set his large puppy eyes on his best friend, who had folded within minutes. Kyouya did suppose he owed Tamaki for restoring his standing with the resident commoner although he had purposely displayed his reluctance with a list of conditions for the day's theme. He was _not_ getting soft.

"Tama-chan is so talented at this, isn't he?"

"Isn't it rather… extreme?" Haruhi stared, jaw agape, at the vision of Tamaki gliding rather gracefully towards the refreshment stand in the corner, only to have him be set upon by Antoinette in a dragon costume. "Besides, how can he move like that encased in heavy metal?"

"Ahh ahhh, Haruhi," the twins chorused in unison, sliding their arms around her shoulders and sending the noisy sound of metal clanking throughout the room.

They grinned. "Don't you know Tono well enough by now?" "He operates on a different plane."

She turned to Kaoru awkwardly, the bottom edge of her helmet scraping the back of her armour. She winced. It was hot and almost unbearably suffocating. "What other plane?"

"Ah, Haruhi," interrupted the cool voice of their Shadow King. "You can change out of that now."

"Eh? But Kyouya-senpai, I've still got other designations."

Kyouya flipped his folder open. "Well, it's proven, Haruhi, that costume changes in the midst of a hosting session tend to heighten our customer's experience and ensure future designations. Would you like to peruse the graphical representation of the collected data?"

"Oh. Ah, that won't be necessary." She lumbered stiffly towards the dressing room. "But I'll need some help getting out of this."

"Of course." He snapped his folder shut. "Mori-senpai."

Within seconds the stoic senior was by her side, lifting her, heavy armour and all, into his arms to the delight of the princesses nearby. Haruhi flushed in embarrassment and there was a light tinge of pink spreading across Mori's cheeks. "Let's go," he said simply, which left their otaku manager squealing.

She clutched his shoulder to steady herself as they made their way to the dressing room. It had become distinctly warmer. Perhaps it was her close proximity with another warm-blooded individual. Haruhi decided that _that_ must have been it as her eyes wandered to Mori's strong jaw line, admiring the way the bulky medieval helmet accentuated it. _He sure does look the part_.

"Haruhi."

Large brown eyes blinked. Once. Twice.

"We're here." He placed her securely on the ornate flooring. The corner of Mori's lips curled gently into a warm smile.

"Ah. Thank you, Mori-senpai." She watched as he closed the large double doors gently and secured them.

Haruhi set about removing her gauntlets. She exhaled loudly in frustration as it snagged on some invisible part of her armour. "I wonder why Tamaki-senpai likes these things," she muttered grumpily. "They're so troublesome. And hot."

"Tamaki is Tamaki," he smiled and took her hand gently, easing the offending thing off it.

She swallowed almost audibly, then winced a little, hoping he had not heard it. The doe-eyed shomin had yet to understand the inner workings of her heart. She was certain she liked Mori, but she seemed to like the rest of her little reverse harem just as much. She sighed and chalked it down to the insane heat she had been subjected to for the better part of two hours. It was overwhelming. In fact, she was feeling a little faint.

"Haruhi?"

Mori had slid her helmet off and was now cradling her cheek gently with his fingers, his thumb brushing over the light flush upon it. Had that happened while she was deep in thought?

He furrowed his brows in concern. "Let's get you out of this."

She reached to clasp his hand. "I'm fine Mori-senpai, although it is quite hot, so that would be good." She grinned.

It was an otherworldly experience to watch his fingers unclasp the fastenings of the armour so dexterously. He had never, in his entire lifetime, dreamt that he would be undressing his precious Haruhi. Removing his hand from her soft, warm nape had taken every ounce of his willpower. He had wanted just the opposite, in fact. In a rare display of congeniality, he decided to strike up some conversation. It had been some time since they had a decent chat. It would distract him from his wayward thoughts somewhat.

"Things appear to be better between Kyouya and yourself."

It was a statement and not a question, since he had seen the way they had settled back into their usual routine recently. He had wanted to speak to her about it, at least to inquire more thoroughly about the situation and to reassure himself that she was alright. More importantly, that Kyouya had not threatened her into obedience, not that she was likely to acquiesce under such circumstances.

"Yes." She sighed in relief as he released her from the confines of the heavy breastplate. She could really breathe now. Had she been more concerned about her feminine attributes, she would have balked at the idea of wearing something so heavy where she was lacking. But she was not. "We had a mature discussion and smoothed things over. And no, in case you were wondering, he did not bend me to his will."

"Ah. Good." He knelt and began removing the metal pieces from her legs. "I was worried."

She placed a hand gently on his head. "Hnn," she grunted.

Mori gazed at her, noting the quirk of her lips in amusement. Was she _mimicking_ his mannerisms? Unable to resist, he made short work of the rest of the armour and stood, wrapping his arms around her, bowing his head over hers protectively.

"M-M-Mori-senpai," she protested feebly. "I probably smell."

"You don't."

Her eyes widened as he held her tighter. It was true, she probably stank to high heaven with her thin cotton shirt soaked in perspiration. She supposed, brows knitting as he inhaled deeply, that this was what Tamaki had meant when he had introduced Mori as The Wild Type when they had met for the first time.

She raised her shoulder towards her nose and took a sniff surreptitiously. He was quite right. While she smelled faintly of strawberries and light sweat, it was far from an unpleasant stench. She sighed and pushed him away however. "I need to take a shower Mori-senpai."

"Ah." He released her, his expression unreadable. His eyes had darkened considerably and Haruhi found herself the focal point of his intense stare. "I'll leave you to it."

She squirmed. The shirt was clinging to her back and it was getting extremely uncomfortable. She grabbed a spare change of undergarments that Hikaru and Kaoru had brought from their mother's collection for occasions such as this. It was a boon to have them but nonetheless she glared at the frilly twin set in baby pink and cursed inwardly at the twins. The pastel piece was the most sedate of the lot. She shuffled to the bathroom.

Haruhi recalled the first time she had discovered the luxurious shower cubicles and the large Jacuzzi in the Third Music Room's en suite bathroom. She had gawked at the gold plated taps and the marble tub until her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. Tamaki had sashayed into the bathroom, sparkling as he explained to her the need for such amenities in every special room in Ouran due to the "passion-induced perspiration fellow students develop when engaging in school activities". Out of the corner of her eye, Haruhi caught a glimpse of the item of clothing that she was to change into. Tacked to the wooden hanger was a note scrawled in Kyouya's script with her name on it.

It was a tattered peasant dress.

The muffled yell Kyouya heard from the dressing room while he was typing furiously on his laptop made his lips twitch.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

I'm not sure I like this chapter. Maybe it's the notion that I didn't leave an obvious cliffhanger, but there's so many of that you can do in a story until it gets old.

Kyouya's still holding his own, although Mori is pulling ahead. I'm curious about the number of chapters it'll take for Haruhi to acknowledge her own feelings. More importantly, I'm still wondering how to manage the rest of the Host Club when she does.

Wish me luck. Meanwhile, I've got a little nugget of a Bleach fic sitting in my brain that I'm dying to write. Time to get it out before the inspiration dwindles.


	14. Put Me Down, I Can Walk

Sincerest apologies folks. This really took much longer than I expected. I encountered enormous writer's block halfway through that refused to budge for a good two weeks or so. I think my schedule has removed the wind from my Ouran sails. The assignments will be over soon, so there should be a less of a wait before the next one. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 14 // Put Me Down, I Can Walk**

It was pitch dark outside the large mansion. He squinted hard and discovered a lone star, twinkling. He raised an arm and clenched his fist around it, brought it to his chest and hoped fervently that he would find the precious gem in his grasp once he dared to look within it.

He sighed.

Like the star, she was radiant. But she was also out of reach.

"Hrrrmmmm…"

He turned to gaze at his twin, who still clutched at his hand like a child after falling asleep every night even though they began at different ends of the bed. Somehow they always ended up in the middle, at times foreheads touching while they snored gently and at others, clinging to one another's arms as if they were lifelines. Perhaps they were. There was little meaning to life without his brother's companionship.

Kaoru was certain of that.

-----

"Saaaaaay, Haruhi!"

"Yes?"

Hikaru pouted, halting the unconscious motion of his arm across his plaything's shoulders that had become second nature to him. "Do you have to narrow your eyes like that?"

Her expression remained guarded. "Whenever you go 'saaaaaaay Haruhi', it's always some harebrained scheme or another. Thanks, but no thanks. I have to study today." She slipped out of his reach easily and bent to retrieve her bag.

It had been an exhausting day. She had been playing sidekick to Tamaki's flamboyant clown the entire afternoon and had been saddled with the arduous task of minding Antoinette, in addition to entertaining her guests, Tono-style, with him _and _his canine.

The rich bastards had insisted on pitching a decent sized circus tent within the Third Music Room and had choreographed a number of acts by the different hosts in succession. Kyouya had wisely stayed out of it, instead taking on the role of Ringmaster. She remembered his smirk when the twins had taken to her face with clown makeup the size of thick crayons while he shrugged his maroon coat on. And he had added insult to injury when he told her that the makeup cost would be charged to her account. Since the incident with the peasant dress three weeks ago, Kyouya had been almost relentless with his teasing. She wondered whether something had addled his brain.

Therefore, despite her sincere love for the little devils, she was solely determined to pursue the pure path of study for the night. Her father was away at Misuzu's for a few days so it was only natural to grasp the opportunity to prepare for her History test the following week.

"But, Haruhiiiiiiiii…" whined Hikaru. "You haven't heard what I wanted to say yet."

"That's right, Haruhi," purred Kaoru, snagging her bag before she could grasp the handle. "We want to _study_ with you."

She raised an eyebrow and reached for the smoothly pilfered item, which Kaoru dangled high above his head with ease. "Is _that_ so?"

The twins nodded sincerely, eyes shining brightly akin to little polished marbles.

She frowned. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yeeeeeeeessssssssssssss!"

They sidled up simultaneously, sandwiching their precious commoner between them. "Take us home, Haruhi! Take us home! We know Ranka-san won't be home tonight! Wouldn't you get looooooooonely?"

"Not really. I'm used to it."

"Your reactions are so booooooooring," they chorused, hoisting her unceremoniously by the armpits and dragging her along to their limousine. She hung limply between them and heaved a huge sigh of resignation. It was going to be a long, restless night.

-----

"Haruhi, I'm hungry. Think you could whip up some clam chowder?"

"No."

"Any caviar?"

"No."

"Umm… Bisley brand cereal?"

"For the last time, NO." Haruhi slapped her pen onto her notebook and glared at the twins who were nosing around in the kitchen, clutching their stomachs in mock starvation. It was a mystery as to why she had not tossed them out on their pert behinds.

She stalked to the kitchen and levelled them with her best stare. "How am I supposed to get any studying done with you two making such a fuss?"

"But we're huuuuuuungryyyyyy!" Hikaru moaned, gripping his brother's arm, sliding to the floor, eyes rolling back in their sockets as his mouth gaped.

Kaoru cradled his twin's head to his chest and sank to the floor, doubling over in what appeared to be great pangs of hunger. "Oh so very huuuuuungryyyyyyyy!"

"Kaoru! Don't leave me!"

"Oh, Hikaru!"

Their eyes slid closed with their bodies falling limp in what might have been considered a scandalously moe embrace.

"You do realise that The Act doesn't work on me, don't you?" She was surprised they had not pulled out all the stops and frothed at their mouths for good measure prior to inhaling their last dramatic breaths.

Hikaru creaked open an eye. "We know." Kaoru blinked. "But we just keep hoping." "And we really can't study when we can feel our stomach walls being slowly, inhumanely dissolved by aciiiid!" They gurgled.

Haruhi glanced at the clock. "Almost time to prepare dinner anyway. What would you like?" They sat up, eyes blinking brightly. "Within reason of course," she added by way of an afterthought. There was a limit to the culinary miracles in the Fujioka kitchen.

She watched a little suspiciously as their heads turned towards one other. It was the Telepathy Moment where decisions could be made without words and with a single look. It was almost as amazing as the way with which Kyouya could read her mind. "NABE!"

"You're sure?"

"AB-SO-LUTELY!"

They grinned, mirror images of one another and Haruhi tried her best to suppress a smile. "Well, that's alright then. It's a bit cold tonight."

As the twins danced around her small apartment, hugging one another and chanting joyous expressions, Haruhi fancied that it was rather refreshing to have them both over despite the ruckus they could potentially cause.

-----

"Could you two not sit this close? I need room to write."

They ignored her.

The twins had plastered themselves against Haruhi, exclaiming their thanks for the sumptuous meal, shortly after they had commenced studying. She was certain they would be rubbing their cheeks affectionately against hers in approximately ten minutes.

Surprisingly, they did not. Instead, fifteen minutes later, Haruhi found two downy heads in her lap as the twins curled up on the floor, books long forgotten. She harrumphed inwardly and tucked the large blanket she had retrieved earlier around them. They snuggled, purring. Belatedly, she wondered what sort of studying they had had in mind.

"Haruhi…"

She blinked. "Yes, Kaoru?"

"We heard about… your situation," he mumbled, placing a hand on her knee gently. "You okay?"

"Eh?"

"Tono told us to take it easy on you," Hikaru complained, "we had to badger him to tell us what was going on. Why didn't you say anything?"

"It isn't a problem exactly." She leaned back and stretched. "Well, it was for a while, but it's resolved."

"But Kyouya-senpai, Tono and Mori-senpai are still… well… trying to _get_ to you aren't they? How can that not be a problem? I know _I_ wouldn't like it!"

Haruhi chuckled. "They haven't really done anything. Mori-senpai's been very protective and kind, Tamaki-senpai has also been extremely considerate and Kyouya-senpai is… I suppose I'm used to him."

Hikaru continued pouting, bottom lip protruding adorably like a child's. She ruffled his hair in a rare display of affection. "You two shouldn't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, like that time at the beach."

She frowned. "I thought I'd apologised for that."

"Hmph."

Kaoru sighed and shifted, his fringe draping over his eyes in the process. He closed them for a moment. "We worry about you regardless, Haruhi. Honestly, I wish we hadn't found out about it through Tamaki-senpai."

The Hitachiins had discovered Haruhi's little love rectangle when Tamaki had stopped them mid-prank a week ago. They had protested vehemently initially, hell bent on teasing their plaything. But the King appeared serious for once and they had decided to let it slide, though not after hounding him for the details behind the entire unusual display. Tamaki had barely survived and had left muttering something about devils and his sanity while massaging his temples with his manicured fingertips.

Hikaru had been furious and had told Kaoru so in the confines of their spacious bedroom once they had arrived home. He then proceeded to sulk throughout the night and had awoken the next morning to find Kaoru already dressed for school. As he was yanked unceremoniously out of bed, his twin, observing the dark look on his countenance, had reminded him that they needed to remain as neutral as possible for Haruhi's sake. Prior to falling into an exhausted sleep, they had engaged in a lengthy discussion about the possible reasons for her silence and had come to the conclusion that it was best to let the situation unfold naturally. Perhaps she had not seen the need to share her troubles with them. Maybe she just had not had the time to do so --- it was the busy season after all, with the plethora of tests and goings on in the Host Club. At least, so Kaoru had reasoned.

Secretly, he hoped he was right.

Over the next week, it had taken relentless studying in class, truckloads of brotherly love during hosting hours and plaguing the help with ceaseless pranks to keep Hikaru sane. Kaoru had gone along with it all, not only because it was what they always did. He knew that his brother was simply channelling his frustrations through the added dimension of ferocity in what might have been construed on a superficial level as their regular slew of activities. It was imperative that he participated and even encouraged these pranks. It would not do for Hikaru to feel that he was drifting.

Kaoru sneaked a glance at his brother. Hikaru's eyes were closed, his countenance relaxed. His long sweeping lashes, however, betrayed him. They were moist.

So in the end Haruhi had decided that they were not important enough.

"I didn't want to worry you." She patted their arms comfortingly.

Haruhi always knew what to say and when to say it. She always managed to read their minds. Why did she not read their hearts then?

Hikaru grabbed her forearm and clutched it to his chest, rubbing his cheek against her smooth skin. His eyelids were squeezed shut, though a tiny lone tear trickled down his smooth cheek. "I don't want to lose you. We don't want to lose you," he mumbled. "You're our only real friend. A real you-can-tell-us-apart friend."

His brother grinned a little sheepishly. "Well… ah… I'll have to agree with Hikaru on this one."

She chuckled. "No one's going to lose anybody. What makes you think that?"

The twins jerked bolt upright then, golden orbs gleaming incredulously as they eyeballed her with suspicion. Surely she knew.

"Whaaat?"

Apparently not.

"We've seen the way you look at Mori-senpai!" they chorused.

"Ehhhh????"

Both craned their necks toward her in scrutiny.

"I'm sure I've had a reason for looking at him. We do share time together seeing that we're _in the same club_," she muttered dryly.

"It's not that!" wailed Hikaru, wringing the blanket in exasperation.

His brother placed a hand on his arm. "Hikaru…" He shook his head and sighed, his gaze falling on the open History textbook on the desk.

"Well! We should continue studying shouldn't we? That's what we're here for!" he chirped brightly, shuffling to the adjacent side of the table. "Where were we?"

Haruhi frowned. "You mean where was _I_…"

-----

It was normal.

_She_ was normal.

Haruhi analysed the rest of the Host Club while sipping from Kyouya's latest acquisition – a light blue Ginori teacup. She wondered when it was that she had started to think of their costumes and various equipment as Kyouya's. It was a given fact that he procured them and rented them out to the rest of the members, using their designations to offset the cost. She could have very well cleared her debt by now without the Shadow King's little schemes. He was probably making profit off her on the sly.

They were resting post-club hours. It was a Friday and no one appeared to be in a hurry. The twins were peering out the expansive casement windows, remarking animatedly while observing the shomin games some of the girls were playing in the courtyard below. Tamaki was perched upon the ledge at the far corner, hugging his teddy bear and staring off into space, clearly in a world of his own. Kyouya was number crunching as usual, punching digits into the calculator on his right while gripping a stack of bills in his left hand which were suspiciously crumpled. The gleam off his glasses sent a shiver through Haruhi's spine. Mori and Hani were engaged in tea and what apparently was general conversation.

She had aced the History test today. Haruhi was certain of it. The grade would be her best reward. The sole act of putting up with the twins for a solitary night would qualify her for an A. She groaned inwardly and knitted her brows. Regardless of the amount of time she had spent working in the club and keeping up with her lessons, a small part of her subconscious had retained what the twins had said that night. She had suppressed it for the past few days, but now that the test was over, the statement and the vision of golden feline eyes were running amok in her very conscious mind.

Haruhi watched Mori beneath her lashes as she continued sipping her English Breakfast. He was smiling somewhat while listening to Hani chattering about the latest blueberry confection his pastry chef had created. His arms were folded across his strong chest and his long legs were stretched out beneath the marble table and crossed at the ankles. She could tell that he had abandoned all defences and was completely relaxed.

And he had still not stopped with the strawberries.

She flushed. She had come to expect the evening deliveries each weekday and in the morning on weekends. Her father was rarely home at those times and as a result, it was she who received them without fail. She had even gone as far as to anticipate the buzz of the doorbell, creaking the door open even as the index finger of the Morinozuka chauffeur was poised at the button, ready to alert her of his presence. They chatted often now; sometimes for as long as fifteen minutes as they enquired one another about their families and wellbeing. The two boxes of strawberries served to brighten her day, regardless of how stressed she was.

Then she realised, as her eyes roamed Mori's stoic countenance, that she was no longer viewing it in profile. He was gazing right back at her, his expression unreadable. She started, sloshing the hot tea in her cup, sending droplets spilling over the rim and onto the back of her hand. She winced.

Within minutes, a large gentle hand was grasping hers, setting her cup aside. She was scooped into strong arms. It was, without a shadow of a doubt, _him_. She could tell by now. The countless times he had shielded her from harm's way and helped her in some capacity had etched his signature scent and warmth into her brain, whether she liked it or not. He was like a medieval knight of old.

Except, knights in shining armour did not exist. Practical Haruhi did not suffer from such a delusion.

That, however, would have been a matter of contention with the rest of the Host Club as they blinked at the fierce expression on Mori-senpai's face while he strode towards the storeroom where the first-aid kit was kept, Haruhi securely pressed against his chest. She supposed he had done it again. Saved her when she did not require it in the slightest. It was somewhat disconcerting.

"You can put me down now, Mori-senpai. I can walk."

He sat her on the ornate couch in the corner and retrieved the burn cream, unscrewing the cap before handing it to her. He watched as she squeezed the tube and rubbed a dollop into her slightly stinging skin. She looked up and smiled, mildly surprised that he had not applied it for her. "Thank you."

"Uhn."

She clasped her hands in her lap and continued massaging her fingers nonchalantly. "Err… Mori-senpai…"

"Hmm?"

"As much as I appreciate your concern, you…" she swallowed almost audibly, "you don't have to come to my rescue for such things. I mean, I can take care of myself."

"Hnnnnn."

"Hey! I mean it, Mori-senpai, I _can_ take care of myself."

When exactly did she begin to make such sense of his various grunts? Was it his facial expression and body language that came with it?

_I'm not even looking at him!_ Her eyes widened as she glared at her short practical fingernails.

Mori suppressed a smile. He would have laughed if it was in his nature to do so. He was not an openly expressive person, but at times, when it was just Haruhi, it was sorely tempting to let it all go. Partake unreservedly of hearty, raucous laughter that would shake his chest. She would be insulted of course.

Instead, he chose to respond a few minutes later. It was his own manner of subtle teasing.

"Sure…"

His companion sighed in relief.

"One condition."

"Ehhhh?" She was looking at him, stupefied.

He restrained a shout of laughter at her adorable expression. Ah, Haruhi, who always made him do things he would otherwise have not under any other circumstance, had sent his shoulders twitching imperceptibly in mirth. He was kneeling in front of her in seconds, his hand on her cheek, his countenance schooled to impassivity.

"Call me Takashi."

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Yes, I've just made things a tad more complicated with the twins. Shoot me, but I wanted them in the story. I can't write an Ouran fic without the entire club present. I thought I'd give them some story time. Yes, I know I'm missing some serious Hani as well. That will hopefully be rectified and no, he is not going to develop any love-love feelings for her. I've already bitten off more than I can chew.

You'll realise that Haruhi's got a little more self-awareness although she is still fairly clueless. I seriously doubt she'll have a sudden ephiphany.

Mori has also made an assertive move. I think it's about time he did. And stupefy the crap out of our adorable commoner.


	15. Exploits in the Rain

Surprise! I've apparently gotten back into the mood of writing again since my schedule has relaxed somewhat and the plot bunnies abound. The Documents Manager of hasn't been working well, so I managed to work round it by exporting one of the existing chapters and then replacing the text within it.

I'm ecstatic to hear that so many readers loved the last chapter. I'm still getting requests for pairings. LOL

Enjoy the chapter. I shall head back to Maple Story for a bit (latest addiction).

Note 1: I've changed the rating of the fic due to certain scenes in this chapter, just in case.

Note 2: I'm on the lookout for fanart for this story so if you've created anything with this story in mind, do let me know. I'd love to see it.

* * *

**Chapter 15 // Exploits in the Rain **

Call me Takashi?

_Call me Takashi???_

If her father had not returned home in a drunken stupor and was muttering to himself in the next room in his sleep, she would have shouted those three exasperating words to the entire neighbourhood. And then some.

Fujioka Haruhi was uncommonly vexed on all counts. At home, she was plagued by her flamboyant father. In middle school, she was subject to confessions once a month from blushing adolescent boys. Right now, in high school, she was the recipient of ceaseless pranks, melodrama and nefarious plans. Was Mori-senpai jumping on the bandwagon? She rubbed her face back and forth vigorously against her fluffy pillow. No, no, no, no and _no_.

It was a bloody stalemate.

For once, despite her keen intellect, she had been outwitted by someone who wielded a katana with ease, rather than a pen. In truth, she had little idea as to how well exactly Mori did in his regular studies. She had never asked -- had never felt the need to. He had to be fairly smart however, given the class he was in and the fact that he had crafted an _exceedingly annoying dilemma_. As if he had etched the thing out meticulously with his sword.

She groaned and flipped herself onto her back, grasping the quilt by its edge and yanking it up to her chin. She glared at the low ceiling. A furious blush stained her cheeks as she recalled her reaction to his statement. How asinine she must have looked with her eyes squinting and corner of her mouth twitching as she stared at him for what appeared to be hours on end. The thumb of his hand that was cradling her jaw had stroked gently across her smooth skin and she had jumped upright, almost smacking his head with her arms as she did so. She had clenched her hands into fists to steady the unfamiliar flare of nerves, nodded stonily and told him that she would have to ponder her decision.

As if it was something of great import.

She had stalked rather calmly out of the room, closing the door behind her with a click when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter past the double doors. A small deep rumble followed. He was mocking her!

She blamed it all on the twins of course -- the two devils who had planted the jolly idea in her head. What was so special about the way she treated Mori-senpai? "Little cretins," she muttered into the darkness, wishing all kinds of benign horrors upon their tiny ratty souls.

At this point, there were only two options available. Three if she pushed her luck. The first was to accede to his request. That, she was certain, would spark an entire cascade of reactions beginning with the King, the twins and then the rest of the known world. They would be devoured by Flames of Moe and melodramatic angst. The second was to ignore his request and continue being rescued, which would mean being carted away in his arms three-quarters of the time. It was what everyone was used to and was probably the safest option. She did nonetheless have an aversion to playing the damsel in distress, regardless of how unintentional it was. The last recourse was to avoid Mori altogether. This made her feel extremely uncomfortable. He would probably be able to hunt her down with that keen sense of smell. He would also be hurt by her behaviour, she was sure of it.

She sighed, eyelids sliding shut as the light patter of raindrops graced her small window. She would think about it tomorrow.

-----

Instinct had woken Mori up from deep slumber. His eyelids flickered open as he registered the increasingly loud drumming on the tiled roof of his home. It was 3.40am and a ridiculous hour to be awake if you were not a swordsman. Mori was used to an erratic sleep schedule however, especially of late since Haruhi had stolen unbidden into his dreams on a number of occasions. He had since lost count of the times he had dreamt about some facet of her quirky character.

Not that it was a terrible inconvenience.

_Haruhi!_ She needed him now. Such rain was the harbinger of thunder and lightning. The copious amounts of training subject to the elements had taught him that. He threw back the covers, scribbled a note at the table and tacked it to the screen. He slipped into his pyjama shirt and strode to the kitchen to grasp few boxes of strawberries. He had planned to pay her a visit in the morning with the delicious fruit as vehicles of coercion but clearly, he was going to see her much earlier than he intended.

The rain was pounding mercilessly on the pavement as he stepped out silently with a large umbrella that had the family crest emblazoned on it. It was the product of one of his mother's whimsical ideas, birthed from her pride in his father and the family name. He strode through the downpour and onto the street. It was dark and the visibility was low. No one in their right mind would venture out in this weather. He would have to run.

-----

"Gaaaargggghh! Nooooo, for the last time Haruhi, that is _not_ ootorooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Tamaki awoke, gasping for air and clawing at the three hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets as he sat upright a hand on his damp forehead. It was a humid night – the sheen of light perspiration on his bare torso attested to that fact. Groaning, he slid out of bed and made for the crystal tumbler in the far corner to pour himself a glass of water. It had been some time since they had paid Haruhi a visit for the first time and yet, he was still subjected to these outlandish nightmares on a regular basis.

Ridiculous.

He made short work of the sweet distilled water and placed the glass back in its ornate silver tray. It clanked loudly. The regular Tamaki would have gone berserk over the lack of refinement the jarring sound implied, but he was otherwise preoccupied with the scene outside his large bedroom window. Water was sliding off it in sheets.

He bolted for the door.

_Haruhi!_

-----

As he stared up at the high ceiling above his own private living area from the textbooks on his coffee table, Kyouya barely registered the ambient noise that included the relentless hammering on his door. He frowned. Was that Tamaki outside hollering his name like some mad fiend? Impossible. The calculus he was working on must have addled his brain.

And yet it continued. He sighed, slammed both palms on the table in frustration and got up, leisurely strolling towards the door. If it was indeed Tamaki, he could suffer the elements out on the porch for interrupting some serious studying.

The foyer was dark, but there was sufficient illumination from the garden lamps that stole through the frosted panes by the doorway. The very panes that Tamaki was plastered against, face contorted in a silent scream. He sighed once more. He could not imagine what might have occurred had the help been up at this ungodly hour and made to open the door.

He unlocked the latches and punched in the security code. Within seconds, Tamaki had weaselled his way in and was currently poised against the door, soaked through to the skin and dripping rainwater onto the marble floor. "My god, Kyouya… did you have to take that long?"

His best friend sniffed. "I couldn't hear you. You could've called you know."

"I ran out without grabbing my phone!"

"That's intelligent."

The King grabbed his sinister counterpart by the shoulders and shook him, droplets from his hair showering them both. "More importantly! HARUHI! She's home alone! And it's raining heavily outside! We have to go save her!"

"We?"

"OUI!"

"No." He secured the door and turned on his heels, walking back to his complex nonchalantly.

Tamaki followed, a little worse for wear, whining like a lost puppy. "Whyyyyy? Don't you love her?"

"Don't _you_?"

"Of course! Except… Ididn'tknowhowtowalktoherhousefrommineandIdidn'twanttogetloooooooost…" he mumbled tapping his fingertips together.

"I see you're as hopeless as usual."

"ButyouknowI'mbadwithdirectionsssssss…"

"As you are with a number of other things." He tossed him a towel and sat on the couch, stretching his arms over the backrest. "I'm surprised you've managed to absorb that much moisture in only a pair of pants."

"Heeeehhhh?"

"And what were you planning to do? Bust into Haruhi's home to comfort her, bare-chested?"

His friend pouted. "Sheneedsme…"

"As much as she needs a pervert right now."

"Kyouya!" Tamaki narrowed his eyes. Ootori was bristling, he could tell. "What's wrong?"

Kyouya shrugged and closed his eyes. "Nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me. I'm your best friend."

"Self-proclaimed, Tamaki." He was starting to develop a headache.

He pried open an eyelid then allowed it to slide shut the moment he registered the proximity of the two pools of intense violet which were scrutinising his countenance. The blond was relentless and Kyouya knew that he was tenacious when it came to the affairs of his friends. Perhaps he should thank his lucky stars that the rest of the Host Club members were ensconced cosily within their beds, otherwise they would have been listening raptly to the King, poised with a marker in hand, proclaiming a battle plan of some sort.

The truth was, he had been enjoying some compositions by Hirano Yoshihisa on the stereo when the droplets had started to fall that night. His thoughts had then wandered to Haruhi and his next course of action. Despite the pleasure he took in crafting strategies in the professional arena, he was somewhat at a loss where this matter was concerned. It was ironic that Ootori Kyouya, who had a plan for every situation, was bereft when it came to the one facet of his life that appeared to need it the most. The notion nursed his sense of unease.

The blond cleared his throat. He was clearly waiting.

"I must stress it is nothing of import. I will not pine away and die due to a trivial matter."

Tamaki snorted. "A trivial matter? Is that what you think of your undying love for Haruhi????"

"Does it matter what I think?" He took a sip of the chilled green tea and frowned. He sounded bitter. Was he? "She clearly does not reciprocate my feelings or yours for that matter."

His friend smiled. "Ah, yes. Impossibly succinct, Kyouya. However, the way she feels about me is inconsequential. She knows how I feel and that… is enough."

"The perennially foolish King."

"A _happy_ foolish King. Can't say the same about you though." There was a long pause. "You think she'll be okay?"

"Well, according to reliable sources, she will be if she isn't already."

"Huh?"

"Ranka-san gave Mori-senpai a set of keys. A set of _apartment_ keys. _To the Fujioka home_."

"WHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTT?????????"

-----

The door clicked open just as the distant low rumble of thunder reached his ears. He opened the door swiftly, thankful that the chain was unlatched. He would have had to break in forcibly if it was.

Mori was by her side in seconds, heaving a sigh of relief to find that she was still deep in slumber. He smiled as he gazed at her for a moment before wandering to the linen closet to retrieve a spare futon. He would stay with her until the storm was over. He laid the bedding adjacent to hers so that only their heads would touch. Then he left the room to perform his ablutions.

Five minutes and he would be with her again. It seemed like an eternity.

-----

"I can't believe you woke my chauffeur up for this. I will be sending you the bill shortly."

The King and his shadowy puppeteer were parked in the small lane by Haruhi's apartment block, the former having desperately pleaded with the latter that it was of utmost importance that they "pay the Fujioka home a sneak visit, even from afar, to ensure that any maidenly screams under extreme duress would be attended to posthaste". Both minds, despite being on polar ends of the logical dichotomy, shared the same thoughts -- was Morinozuka Takashi the owner of a third set of keys to Haruhi's precious little apartment for two? And was this gesture a mark of approval on Ranka's part?

"I'm sure Souma doesn't mind. Give him the day off tomorrow. I'll pay for his wages." Tamaki had his face pressed against the glass peering up at the Fujioka door like a puppy ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim. Except that it was a dark, gloomy night with visibility close to zero. "Ah… you don't suppose you… havesomenightvisiongogglesdoyouuuuuu???"

How did Kyouya know that was coming? "None in my possession currently," he sighed, folding his arms. "Which was my rationale behind abandoning this little futile excursion. It's far too dark to see anything from the poor lighting afforded by the street lamps and the heavy downpour. Even if you attempted to make out the silhouette of Mori-senpai, assuming he isn't already in there, it would be a hazarded guess at best."

"HE'S ALREADY IN THEREEEEEE????????"

Kyouya shrugged. "In the time it took for you to arrive at my doorstep and to wheedle to get your way, I'm fairly certain he would have made it here if he wanted to. Also consider the proximity of their homes."

Tamaki gasped at this and buried his face in his hands. "Mphghmmmmmafdahhfmmm…"

"What?"

He removed his hands, took a deep breath and blinked furiously.

"What the hell? Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Nooooooo… something got in my eye."

"Hmm." Kyouya smirked. "Are you sure that it's enough?"

There was hint of a sniffle. "What is?"

"Loving her without anything in return."

"It's supposed to be. Isn't that what they all say?"

"Personally, I think it's a load of rubbish. I'm not ashamed to admit that I want Haruhi for myself. _In every sense of the word_."

"Motherrrrrr! Such thoughts are not permissible with our precious daughter!"

Kyouya rolled his eyes heavenward. "It's about time you relinquished that childish familial construct you created. We're all _friends_, Tamaki. Good friends."

"Who sadly all want Haruhi for themselves."

"So you've noticed."

"Obviously! Mori-senpai and both Hikaru and Kaoru love her. It's painfully apparent. Hani-senpai however, seems to want her companionship more than anything else." He whimpered. "It's only natural of course… why, she's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that. She has her shortcomings, like any other human being."

"B-b-but I don't. I'm not any other human being."

"Case in point. I think you're not terrestrial. In fact… _subterrestrial_."

"HEY!"

The short burst of laughter that followed slowly faded into silence. Both were deep in thought.

-----

Ranka awoke with a splitting headache. "What dreary weather," he growled, rubbing the back of his sleep-tousled head. He was severely dehydrated. His work cronies had done it again, plying him with drink even when they knew it troubled his daughter to see her father stumbling through the doorway. "Bastards."

He flipped on the light switch in the kitchen then flipped it off rapidly. "Ugh."

Out of the corner of his eye he spied, through his hazy vision, an unnaturally large pair of sandals. _Male_ sandals that had no place in his household. For a brief moment he contemplated grabbing the family katana hidden in the deep recesses of his own linen closet and using it ruthlessly. He thought better of it, however, since his faculties were in complete disarray. He would likely slice off his own limb in the process. He crouched and tiptoed with as much stealth as he could muster to Haruhi's room to ensure she was secure in her bed. The sight that he beheld had his jaws agape.

The stoic Morinozuka heir, in nothing but a pair of shorts, was cradling his daughter to his bare chest. Her head was nestled against the crook of his nape and her arm was around his waist! Even worse, their legs were entwined together with the covers! Ranka bit back a silent scream as he ran into his room and collapsed on his own futon.

There would be _hell_ to pay tomorrow!

-----

It was almost dawn at the Ootori estate. The household was stirring, yet Kyouya had not had his requisite five hours of sleep. Tamaki had insisted on continuing with the stakeout for an entire hour and he had resigned himself to his best friend's antics. He glanced at the blond who was sprawled on his bed, an arm flung haphazardly across his forehead. Tamaki was a heavy sleeper by nature and by all appearances, he did not seem to be particularly perturbed about the events that occurred just a few hours ago. Nonetheless, Kyouya knew him better than most, perhaps with the exception of their precious shomin. It was the reason he had given up the comfort of his own bed and opted to spend the night on the couch.

He had reached an epiphany while mulling over everything that had transpired since Fujioka Haruhi had stumbled clumsily into their lives one afternoon. He wanted her to be happy but he hoped he would be able to partake of that slice of heaven somehow. The longing in his heart had transformed into something far deeper than his own logical mind could fathom. It was troubling. Surely one sentimental fool in the establishment was one too many. In the end, he had concluded this -- Ootori Kyouya would not admit defeat without putting up a fight.

And the same could be said of Suou Tamaki.

-----

It was warm. Strangely so. Haruhi's mind registered that fact as her eyelids flickered open gently. Instead of the usual field of vision that she woke up to every morning, she found herself face to face with and pressed up against a wall of firm flesh. "Hrmmmm. Haruhi."

"T-T-Takashi… senpai?" She had arrived at the compromise seconds before she drifted asleep. "What are you doing here?"

He stifled a yawn as he brushed a wayward lock of soft lustrous hair away from her eyes. "Good morning," he mumbled, bending to brush her cheek with his lips. "Did you sleep well?"

She blinked. "I… suppose so. I don't recall ever opening the door to let you in. Did Dad?"

"Bad storm last night. Came over," Mori explained, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have sleepovers and to be lying on the same futon with her.

"Haa…ah."

"Glad you slept soundly. Flinched during the night and called my name."

"I did?"

"Yes." He drew her closer and buried his nose in her hair. The lovely scent of strawberries assailed his senses.

All of a sudden, she was keenly aware of the position of their bodies, her arm around his waist, their limbs tangled. "Did… anything else happen?"

"Yes," he paused and smiled, the happiest man in the world. "You used my given name."

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Yes, there's going to be more furious competition for Haruhi's heart. I was at my wits end because if both Kyouya and Tamaki back off right now, it means that there's little reason for the story to continue -- if it did it might end up being boring. So because I miss them all so much (c'mon, Bones!), here's more competition (and a bit more baka-Tono for good measure although I think he's too adorable).

I find it interesting that Haruhi's so calm in the midst of all that... err... sensation. I wonder what that implies..

My favourite bit of dialogue has got to be Kyouya going "We?" and Tamaki going "OUI!" in response. For some reason, I find that hilarious. I hope that readers have gotten a better glimpse of their relationship through this chapter.

Oh and Hirano Yoshihisa is the composer for the orchestral Ouran soundtrack (and also Death Note's) -- in case you were wondering.

I've got a few little nuggets of Ouran fic ideas sitting around in my head somewhere and I'll get down to writing them as soon as Shomin is close to ending or at least, as soon as I can compartmentalise the fic-writing process in my brain.

Mata ne!**  
**


	16. Wait Please

Another chapter! Stories just write themselves when you're inspired. I've also been thinking about my Bleach fic (Salvaging the Pieces -- Rukia & Kaien) that's on temporary hiatus and I think it's about time to pick it up again. If you've been following that fic, watch for a new chapter soon! (And by soon I mean a week or two. Hah.)

* * *

**Chapter 16 // Wait. Please.**

Pretending to be fast asleep was an exceptionally difficult task. He twitched beneath the covers. If he had been sensible enough, he would have returned to his own comfortable bed instead of spending the night at Kyouya's, but he was far too tired after their little escapade in the pouring rain. And yet his mind refused to allow him rest. As a result, his limbs were itching to move and needless to say, so were his lips.

Few knew that Tamaki had the quirky habit of thinking out loud during Alone Time although his behaviour on a daily basis did point to the existence of such a disposition. Self-talk was primarily a means of organising his usually chaotic thoughts and lately, careful reflection. Of course Tamaki was rarely truly alone during Alone Time. He had Antoinette. And Antoinette, the rest of the Host Club knew, was not just any normal canine. Tonight, however, he did not have the luxury of petting her head and sharing his perplexities freely as she snoozed soundly in the doggy bed by his ornate headboard.

Instead, he had Kyouya who, incidentally, was as wide awake as he and sighing with inordinate frequency. Sometimes he wondered what was on his best friend's mind beyond those inscrutable glasses and keen intellect. There were numerous hurdles that Kyouya presented when he was being stubborn which even he had never crossed. Despite this, he knew exactly what his friend was troubled about that instant -- the same issue that had been consuming his every thought.

He mumbled, sighed and flipped onto his stomach. He burrowed his cheek into the fluffy pillow and hugged the other in his arms tightly. It was little comfort.

Their conversation in the limousine tonight had stirred some dissension within his spirit. The longer he pondered his relationship with Haruhi, the greater the sense of unease. He was restless. He clearly wanted much more and yet, his inherent selflessness where matters of the heart were concerned refused to let him stake a claim. Did _he_ not exist for the benefit of Haruhi? Surely plaguing her needlessly with his affections was not on the list of approved to-dos. What then, was he doing outside her home at some godforsaken hour, trying desperately to convince himself that she felt nothing for Mori?

Therein lay the conundrum -- he was ruled by his emotions which did not comply with rational thought.

"Can't sleep?"

He curled into a bundle. "No." He envisioned Kyouya's typical smirk. "How'd you guess? I thought I was doing a relatively good job faking it."

"Don't flatter yourself. You gave yourself away when you flipped onto your stomach. You never do that when you're really asleep."

He sat up, eyes wide as saucers. "How _on earth_ do you know that?"

"I have my ways."

Heavy silence followed. There was a faint shuffle as one of them moved.

"Kyouya?"

"Hmm?"

"What should I do?"

His friend closed his eyes. "I can't tell you what to do, Tamaki."

"Why? Because you're my rival?"

"No."

Their voices sounded hollow in the dark.

"You've always said that we have to make our own decisions and that no one else can do so on our behalf. What's happened to change your mind since then?"

He bit his lip. "It's a difficult situation."

Kyouya snorted with thinly veiled disdain. "I don't recall difficult situations falling under the category of impossibilities for Suou Tamaki. Don't tell me you're turning into a wimp."

"I am not a wimp!" he exclaimed, his last utterance echoing throughout the large room in emphasis. He whimpered at the ghostly taunt.

"You sure sound like one right about now."

"I know. It's terrible." He stretched out and stared at the ceiling. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"How one girl manages to throw our lives off kilter?"

"Yeah."

-----

There used to be six things Haninozuka Mitsukuni loved as much as life itself -- his family, sweets, his stuffed rabbit, the Host Club, Karate and Morinozuka Takashi, in no order of preference of course. However, since he had discovered to his horror that the number six happened to be a favourite of Nekozawa Umehito's approximately a year ago, he had decided that he had to increase his list by one item. Seven was ideal -- a state of utopia where numbers were concerned -- for the little senior. He had acquired the latest common yet distinctly unique addition when Fujioka Haruhi had stumbled into the Third Music Room and refused his offer of cake and bunny, only to change her mind on the latter. The light bulb that had flickered on that instant heralded a new era for Hani and his list.

It was another biweekly snack night for Hani. He had acquiesced to reducing the frequency of the daily sessions for the sake of his brother, but it was only because Haruhi had asked. Nicely. He bit into a slice of strawberry shortcake with relish. It was utterly delicious although the one they had baked at Tamaki's birthday party tasted far better. Maybe it was the companionship that made the difference. Hani clutched Usa-chan close to his chest.

His best friend had been spending more time with Haruhi lately and he was pleased though a little saddened by this. Pleased because Takashi had finally relinquished his position by the sidelines and was now in the thick of battle. The warrior in Hani identified with this state of mind. Haruhi was a wonderful girl and a complete sweetheart, despite her idiosyncrasies. However, it pained him nonetheless in his little heart of hearts to know that the dynamics in their relationships would change. He loved the idea of Takashi and Haruhi together, but where did that leave him?

He sighed. It was difficult adopting a mature perspective when he was used to being coddled by friends in school and the customers of the club. He was cute, cuddly and adorable -- the very personification of the words used to describe children. While it was not something he had a problem with in general, there were limits nonetheless. At least the members of the Host Club were less inclined to go berserk over the defining characteristics of his physical appearance and personality that made him the ultimate loli-shota.

His thoughts drifted to Haruhi and the wonderful company she offered on a regular basis. _She_ did not treat him like a child -- in fact, quite the opposite. That, in itself was a boon he had never dared to hope to receive. He wondered whether there would be another girl like her who could look beyond the superficial.

He shook his head vehemently. It was far too depressing a train of thought for snack time.

He gulped the contents of the plate and washed it down with a glass of cold strawberry milk before helping himself to another slice.

-----

In the end, Tamaki had given up warring against his instincts. Emotional and physical exhaustion had hit him like a ton of bricks. Kyouya smiled at the small murmur that came in the direction of his bed as the door to his bedroom clicked shut behind him.

His footsteps echoed softly in the empty hallway as he made his way to the roof garden. The concentration of rich greenery was the only concession his father had made when he had dictated his utilitarian requests to the architects years ago. Kyouya had surmised that it must have been an action based on the recommendations of the Ootori head's psychologist contacts. Regardless of his father's intentions, he found that relaxing in the lush environment had some merit in terms of improving his overall temperament and increasing his productivity.

"Obocchama." The sweet lilting voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Morning, Suzuki." He nodded, eyes crinkling as he watched the maid's eyes widen. It was common knowledge that he was as crabby as a crustacean in the wee hours of the morning. The rare spectacle of the third son strolling leisurely on a Saturday morning had clearly caught her by surprise.

"M-m-morning, obocchama." She bowed and grinned a little irreverently, nervousness forgotten. "Are you headed for the roof garden? Shall I tell the chef to prepare your regular breakfast?"

He returned the sunny smile with unusual ease. "That will not be necessary. Just bring me cornflakes, cut fruit and some milk. I will be on the upper terrace."

"Yes, obocchama." She hurried away in a flurry of skirts.

The roof garden was divided into two levels -- the upper and lower terraces. The lower terrace was home to a large variety of flowers that had been cultivated in the nursery behind the mansion. It was the expanse of vibrant colours in every shade of the rainbow that captured the hearts of the wives of many business partners and this impression was often the crucial factor in clinching a deal. It made Ootori Yoshio appear a little more… human. Naturally it was all part of his father's endless calculations. He was, after all, a businessman who approached his entire life like he would a chess game.

Tamaki had accused him of the same attitude once. Things, however, had changed since then. _He_ had changed and given in to whims and little flights of fancy even when there were little merits involved, obviously with his best friend as chief instigator. He slid open the glass door and made his way to the upper terrace, admiring the way the luscious petals caught the first light of dawn. The King would have loved to see this. "Such a pity," he mumbled to no one in particular.

The furious downpour throughout the night had scattered leaves all over. The delightful squish of wet soil beneath his feet and the fresh scent of vegetation invigorated him. It was a beautiful scene, even for Kyouya. He stepped carefully into the enclosed wooden gazebo, fingering the hammock that hung from two of its inner pillars. Fuyumi had helped him with its installation one night to the horror of their father when he was in elementary school. He remembered the hard slaps they had gotten for it. The rich did not indulge in useless lounging -- that was the rationale that they had been given. Nonetheless, once the children of potential business allies had arrived for a visit that very afternoon and exclaimed at the quaintness of it all, Yoshio had given them a ticket to Disneyland each via his personal assistant as a means of making amends. Yoshio's clinical approach to parenting had not been lost on his children. It was inevitable that their relationship had become somewhat estranged.

He sank into the plush lounge seat that had become his favourite spot on mornings like these. It afforded him the breathtaking view of the sun rising over Tokyo, the rays cleansing the city of darkness that had fallen the night before. The effect was strangely symbolic of the hope that stirred within him most notably when he was with Tamaki, and since he had known her, Haruhi.

Kyouya inhaled deeply.

Haruhi. She would probably enjoy the scenery.

He exhaled, his mind beginning to whirr despite the lack of precious sleep. Most of his family would be out of the country on business next week. Perhaps he would extend an invitation to her to visit his home one evening. He caught himself just as his mind teetered at the edge of some elaborate excuse. Old habits were hard to break.

He removed his glasses. The silver rim reflected the first rays of sunlight. He would try her brand of communication for once.

-----

It was that feeling of déjà vu all over again.

She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair, which did nothing for the tufts of kinks that were emerging every which way.

Mori stifled a smirk. Ranka shot him a death glare, his hands clenching on his knees. Damn that Morinozuka to the fiery pits of warrior hell! How _dare_ he lay his hands on his daughter and sit there calmly making a mockery of the entire situation! Clearly he had made a gross mistake entrusting his daughter's safety into the hands of this… this… _wastrel_.

His breath was coming in shallow gasps and rivulets of sweat were cascading down his smooth cheek only to catch on the day-old stubble that had developed overnight.

"Dad, you'll hyperventilate."

Ranka grunted. "Y-y-you… _YOU_! HARUHI!" He slammed his fists on the table. How could she remain so impassive when her father was about to bust a vein and keel over from the shock of finding his offspring in the arms of a half-naked man? Why, it was only a notch away from discovering a daughter's deviant tendencies towards women!

He shuddered.

"Like I said Dad, nothing happened."

Mori waggled his head vigorously. "Uhnn mrhngghh mrhngghh!"

"Besides," she muttered beneath her breath, "you're one to talk."

"I heard that you little wretch! I was originally _biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii_!!!!!"

Haruhi twitched. Fujioka Ryoji was a hilarious man, with and without his okama trappings. He was a caring father, an incredible worrywart and dramatic beyond logical reason. Despite his tendency to overreact in countless circumstances, she did concede that it was somewhat warranted this time. She watched in mild amusement as he picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial.

Wait… was that his finger poised on the number "1"?

-----

"Kyoooooooooouyaaaaaaaaaa!"

He should have known Tamaki would bound out of bed at the first light of dawn.

"Ohhhhh Kyoooooooooouyaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The blond stopped short of crashing into the wooden table that held Kyouya's breakfast tray like an errant puppy.

"Whooooooooooops! Haha_HA_! Almost had an accident there!" He brushed his fringe from his eyes elegantly with his long fingers.

Kyouya shovelled another spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth as his friend stared.

"Wow, when you say that some actions are pointless because there aren't any merits, you really mean it huh?" He blinked, jaws slightly agape at the sight of his friend crunching his breakfast heartily. "Oh. By the way, your phone rang. It woke me up."

He handed the offending contraption over.

"But to awaken from slumber to a heavenly orchestral ensemble was truly more delightful than I had initially envisioned…"

Kyouya raised an eyebrow, leaving his friend to his rose-tinted soliloquy and held the phone to his ear. "Hello. Ootori Kyouya speaking."

The onslaught that he received from the other end of the line triggered a massive headache.

"KYOUYA-KUN! GET YOUR PERT BEHIND OVER HERE RIGHT NOOOOOOW!!!!"

-----

This could not get any worse. It was utterly inconceivable.

A few minutes ago, Ranka had thrown open the door at the sound of footsteps up the corridor stairs only to usher in, quite possibly, the two individuals that she had no intention of laying her eyes on until the weekend was over. The effect was further compounded by the dark look on Kyouya's countenance and Tamaki's teary-eyed expression. Both sent shivers down her spine.

She had managed to wrestle the receiver away from her father after he had practically screamed at Kyouya only to discover that the other party had ended the call and was probably on his way over. Haruhi sneaked a glance at Tamaki whose lower lip was trembling visibly although he was trying to maintain some degree of stoicism by staring fiercely into his cup of tea. Why had he appeared? Did Kyouya need some form of reinforcement or was the matter of such import that the King had to be dragged into it as well?

No. She surmised that he had somehow gotten wind of the entire situation and had managed to worm his way into her home by whining to his best friend.

The awkward silence was ridiculously palpable.

"Ah… Tamaki-se… Tamaki. What are you doing here?" It was rather astute of Haruhi to use Tamaki's given name, Kyouya decided as he watched his friend perk up visibly.

"Schtayed ober at Kyouya's lasht night," he mumbled with a pout.

"A-ah."

So that was how it was. Tamaki had stayed over at Kyouya's and had insisted on coming over after he heard the news. This was going to be extremely troublesome.

"KYOUYA-KUN!"

The Shadow King winced. The loud volume was blistering. Ranka's voice had undoubtedly increased by several decibels compared to its usual tenor and tone. "Yes, Ranka-san?"

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS??? I ENTRUSTED MY DAUGHTER INTO YOUR CARE AND I AWAKE THIS MORNING TO FIND HER THUS… THUS… THUS _SULLIED_!!!"

Kyouya wished fervently that he would stop speaking in caps. "Ranka-san, I apologise for any lack of respect on my part, but it's quite difficult for me to gather my thoughts on the matter with your… ah… enthusiastic expression of disapproval." He pressed his fingertips to his temples in dramatic emphasis, clearly using one of Tamaki's regular strategies. "I was up all night and am currently nursing a migraine."

Ranka, who had been up in arms just moment before, deflated perceptibly. "Oh."

Haruhi rolled her eyes heavenward at the mastery with which Kyouya managed her father. She made to say something, but was silenced by a glance from him that heralded certain death if she spoke without thinking. Clearly he was just as effective with the younger Fujioka as he was with the elder. Briefly, the thought crossed her mind that he would likely fare well with her mother. She sighed in resignation.

"I would like to hear Mori-senpai's version of what happened."

Tamaki cringed as Mori began reiterating the chain of events that had led him to Haruhi's home and unwittingly, her bed. He grasped the cup of tea with both hands and took little continuous sips, scalding his upper lip in the process. He did not particularly mind the sting however, since it would provide some form of distraction from what he was hearing from his senpai's very own mouth. He slithered across the floor towards the kitchen for more hot water when the upperclassman mentioned that a set of apartment keys was currently in his possession. He clasped the ridge of the sink, squeezed his eyes shut and slumped in despair.

His eyelids fluttered open at the warmth of a gentle hand on his upper arm. "Tamaki?"

"H-H-Haruhi…" he hiccupped, blinking his eyelids rapidly and wiping the unshed tears with the back of his hand.

"Are you alright?" The open display of concern for _his_ wellbeing was uncharacteristic of her. Tamaki knew this. Under normal circumstances, she would have left him alone to get over whatever caused the childish display of petulance. This time, it appeared that the incident this morning had dealt him with a huge blow and she knew he was trying his best to remain impassive for her sake.

"N-no, but I'll be fine in a while." He sniffled and bestowed her with a wan smile. "I wish you the very best, Haruhi. May the both of you… live… live… live happily ever aaaaafteerrrrrr!!!"

He attempted to dash out of the apartment but was stopped short by two slim arms that wrapped suddenly around his waist. "H-Haruhi?"

"Wait," came the muffled reply.

Tamaki turned and slid his arms around her shoulders, still close to tears but for a completely different reason. A teardrop plopped onto his shirt and she tightened her grasp.

"Don't go."

* * *

**Author's Note(s):**

Like I said, it wrote itself. I just had to throw the three suitors into an awkward situation to set things in motion. I wonder how this will work out.

Tamaki-Haruhi shippers might have enjoyed this chapter. I did -- tremendously! I really sympathise with Tamaki. He's such a delicate person. As for Haruhi's behaviour in the last bit, you'll just have to tune in to the next installment to find out exactly what she's up to.

I bet you Mori/Kyouya-Haruhi fans are screaming blue murder right about now.

Relax! It ain't over til the fat lady sings. Teehee. You can tell I'm getting a huge kick out of plot twisting.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. I love hearing from you.


	17. And She Will Be Loved

It's been some time since I've updated. Sincere apologies folks. I've been busy with work. I hope you enjoy the chapter as much as my rather evil mind found delight in crafting it.**  
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**Chapter 17 // And She Will Be Loved**

It was odd. Odd, very peculiar and distinctly out of the ordinary.

He was _not_ smothering her. Instead, he had slid to the floor with her shoulders cradled loosely in his arms and his face buried in the crook of her neck. It was an awkward position since she was bent rather uncomfortably at the waist, but Tamaki seemed to need her there so she remained still.

Haruhi was stubborn, regardless of how easily she could be swayed by puppy eyes, death glares, twin sandwiches and fluffy bunnies. She had been worried when Tamaki had made his way to the kitchen dejectedly as if the entire world had caved in on him. Upon reflection, his reaction was only natural. She had been caught in a compromising situation with Mori after all and her father was on the verge of insisting that her ill-fated suitor take responsibility for something he had not even done.

Curse the elements! She had never intended for this to happen.

She patted his back. The truth was, she had no intention of letting him stumble out of the apartment with tears streaming down his face, to some mysterious location on his own. Not when he was this distraught. Her landlady would probably haunt her for the rest of her life, demanding to know what she had done to upset the handsome, charming young man. She would then truly have to disappear in the dead of the night as Tamaki had imagined during her working stint at Karuizawa. Practically speaking, being run out of town due to an incident such as this was not on her agenda. More importantly, however, it pained her somewhat to see him in shambles. She supposed the previous episodes of gloom were nothing compared to this.

She admitted grudgingly that she did not want to lose him. He was sunny, vibrant, ridiculously dramatic and quite the idiot. Moreover, she really did enjoy his company and could not imagine life without him.

"Tamaki."

"Hmprhgmm?"

"Honestly, nothing happened."

He raised his head slowly, cheeks flushing bright pink as he gazed into her large doe eyes. "Really? Do you promise completely and utterly?"

"I do."

Tamaki's smile returned at this and his eyelids slid shut for a moment. She frowned suspiciously. "You're not thinking that sounds like… a marriage solemnisation… are you?"

"Ahhh Haruhi! I do! I do! I do tooooooo!!!"

She smacked his golden head lightly. "Stop that!" Then she started laughing.

His expression softened and he fingered her hair. Haruhi was charming when she was given to mirth. He would relinquish anything to listen to it for the rest of his days. He sobered. There was something on his mind that he had been meaning to ask.

"Haruhi…"

"Haaahh… yes?" She rubbed at her eyes to remove the tears that had somehow accumulated at the silliness of it all.

He grasped her shoulders firmly. "Do… do you…" He swallowed nervously. "D-do you _love_ Mori-senpai?"

"EHHHH?"

She realised belatedly that he was trembling a little. His hands slid to her upper arms and tightened. He was waiting for her response with bated breath. His eyes were glistening with tears and something else she could not quite discern. Did she love Mori? She really had no idea. She would be lying if she said she did not feel anything at all for the stoic senior, but she was certain that she did not love him. How could she when she had no idea what love was really?

She had picked up a trashy romance novel once that her father used to pore over and had been disgusted with its plot development and idealised characters. She had snorted at the absurdity of the notion of a picture-perfect, happily-ever-after romance and attempted to toss it out. Only Ranka's friendship with the garbage collection folks had managed to save it.

"No… I don't think I do," she replied carefully, "I don't even think I know what love is."

Tamaki heaved a sigh of relief then brightened. "I'll teach you!"

"No thanks."

"B-b-but Haruhiiiiiiiiiiiiii…"

"No buts. I don't need distractions from my studies, least of all distractions of this sort."

"I-I suppose not," he conceded, then crushed her to his chest. "But I really can't imagine a future without you in it. Promise me you'll let me stay by your side in any capacity… please?"

She hugged him back and smiled against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I promise."

They released one another and he beamed. "Now let's settle this with Ranka-san."

They returned to their seats by the table with fresh cups of tea.

"I see the both of you have finished your little discussion."

Kyouya had resisted the overwhelming urge to eavesdrop on their conversation although it irked him that Haruhi had willingly shadowed Tamaki without any prompting. He observed the lingering traces of tears on their faces with interest. He had heard some sobbing and laughter and came to the conclusion that there was nothing to worry about. Haruhi was still Haruhi and Tamaki, needless to say, was still the world's greatest simpleton at heart.

Tamaki nodded and leaned forward earnestly. "Ranka-san! We are cognizant of your current apprehension and we applaud you! For it is indeed a father's duty… nay! A father's _devotion_ that constantly propels him to agonise about his daughter's wellbeing! Hence we, the Ouran High School Host Club, would like to allay your fears!" His arm swung forward expansively and clenched his fist at his heart -- an action that would have had their customers squealing. "We exist for the happiness of wom-… of _mankind_."

Someone stifled a groan. _Great_, thought Haruhi dryly, _all of mankind indeed_.

"THEREFORE, you have my WORD that Morinozuka Takashi did not perform any indecent acts towards your daughter!"

"And that word alone is sufficient."

He silenced Kyouya with a wide-eyed glare. "Yes! I am the King! The epitome of perfection and as one very astute subject declared… a _genius_!"

Ranka had arisen from his seat at the ludicrous display and was rapidly turning a mottled red. Before Tamaki could cause any further damage, Kyouya placed a reassuring hand on the okama's shoulder. "Please, Ranka-san. Have a seat."

He turned towards Haruhi and smiled. "Now, Haruhi-_chan_… would you please regale us with your version of the story?"

She was not the least bit taken in by the pretence of friendliness afforded by the suffix he had used. The twinkle in his eye was bone-chilling. He was seething. She gulped.

"Ah, actually… I was asleep the entire night." She rubbed the back of her head and shrugged. "I woke up to find Mori-senpai holding me."

"_Is that so_."

She stared back defiantly. "Yes, it is _so_. Trust me, if something happened I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to sleep through it. Isn't that right, Mori-senpai?"

The perpetrator coloured a rich crimson immediately and bobbed his head.

She had no concept of delicacy whatsoever. Kyouya found himself fiercely torn between laughing and throttling her. He schooled his features to impassivity despite the muscular tick that was threatening to erupt near his lips. Tamaki had withered into an ungraceful heap in the corner.

"Well, Ranka-san. There you have it. The word of your daughter and the heir to one of the most prestigious families in Japan. I sincerely hope you believe them."

Haruhi peeked at her father. He seemed calmer, though not sufficiently convinced. The next thing that emerged from Kyouya's lips, however, was the icing on the cake.

"In the event that anything untoward happens to Haruhi as a result of last night's affairs, I, as well as the Ootori family, am prepared to take full responsibility which includes marrying your daughter, accepting the child into my family as my own and handling any media furore that might arise. Rest assured that Haruhi will be safe in my capable hands." _And she will be loved_, he added silently.

"EEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH????????????"

-----

Haruhi knitted her eyebrows, having been plunged into deep thought by the abrupt proposal. There were a few choice things she wanted to say to Kyouya, but it was, unfortunately, not the time. Ryoji, distinctly out of Ranka mode, was patting the Shadow King on his shoulder, smiling like the potential father-in-law, no doubt providing him with gems about his daughter that he might otherwise not have shared.

She grimaced at the sight and watched as Kyouya disengaged himself from her father's grasp and made his way towards Mori, who was coolly sipping on the piping hot tea she had served a few minutes ago. Tamaki, unlike the pinnacle of stoicism, was out cold in the linen closet.

"A word, Mori-senpai."

The icy tone of his voice had her cringing. She stepped between them. "Wait, Kyouya."

"I suggest you move, Haruhi. This is something that needs to be settled between _men_."

She dug in her heels even further. "You should know it's pointless to use that argument on me. I'm staying here whether you like it or not."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you protecting him?"

"Not really. Just ensuring that _neither of you_ get carried away and hurt one another in the process."

He sighed, exasperated. "You never learn do you? You're just like Tamaki in this regard."

"He would resent that if he was awake."

"He's used to it." He leaned in, closing the distance between their faces considerably. Haruhi refused to budge. It was a matter of principle, something she would steadfastly cling to regardless of the extent with which his invasion of her personal space unnerved her. "You're just begging for another one aren't you?"

She cringed inwardly and tilted her chin up in defiance. "Another what?"

Haruhi was temptation personified on a regular basis even though few viewed her as such. It was merely a testament to their imbecilic natures that they missed what Kyouya had noticed the moment she stumbled into the Third Music Room. What she said, did or even wore was completely immaterial to him. But when she was glaring at him, eyes blazing like this, it was incredibly difficult keeping his hands to himself. They itched to grasp and hold her close. "I'll have you know, _Haruhi_," he murmured for her ears alone, "that I'd very much like to kiss you senseless at this point."

She took a step back, fingertips unconsciously brushing her lips, eyes wide in surprise. He chuckled in victory. _That_ had certainly stopped her in her tracks. "Now if you'll excuse us, Mori-senpai and I have something of great import to discuss."

Mori watched the exchange between the two with mild interest.

There was a thump. "NO." Haruhi had stamped her foot in protest, an uncharacteristic action that proved that her frustrations were increasing as the conversation progressed. It was amusing for both males.

"In that case…" Kyouya reached for her, snagging her by the elbow and dragged her through the small hall to her bedroom. He slid the door shut.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Getting you out of my way," he peered at her through his lenses. Her cheeks were pink and he could tell by the way she was breathing that she was close to unleashing her anger. He steeled himself for an apocalyptic outburst. "I'm going to talk to Mori-senpai whether you like it or not."

"If you're going to warn him away from me through some underhanded means, using your private police force and societal pressure, you've really got another thing coming."

"So we're back to square one again, Haruhi?" The soft timbre of his voice startled her. He sounded… _hurt_.

Her eyelids slid shut. "No. That's not what I think of you, Kyouya. Not really. I just think that you tend to retreat to old habits when you're upset."

"What could I possibly be upset about?"

She sat on the floor and hugged her knees. "Well, that Mori-senpai spent the night. Again. You were furious the first time. Furious enough to… err… never mind that. You're probably livid now."

"And why do you suppose I might feel that way?" He sat next to her, gaze trained on the smooth skin of her cheek.

"I don't know."

"But you do."

He pondered his options. There was only one reason he had broached the idea of marrying Haruhi should events turn awry. He loved her, regardless of how altruistic it might have seemed to rescue her from her troubles. The thought that someone else had touched her intimately did not sit well with him. It was downright gut wrenching. He flinched. Nonetheless, it was of little consequence. He would embrace her in his arms for the rest of his life if she would have him.

He was waxing lyrical, the result of fraternising with _that_ Suou.

"Why did you say you'd marry me Kyouya?"

"Because I want to." He arched a brow. "Please tell me you aren't going to ask me why I want to. That would be an extremely pitiful display of ignorance, even for you."

"Oh, shut up."

"My, haven't things changed, Haruhi. You would never have dreamt of telling me to 'shut my trap' as you commoners are wont to say a few months ago."

"Your threats don't have any leverage over me anymore."

"I allow them not to," he responded with a sinister grin.

"Why are you doing all this?"

"You know, Haruhi, when I have my mind set on something, I see like to it through to the end, even though things may not work out as I had intended. However, when I have my _heart_ set on something… all bets are off."

"All bets are off?" she echoed quizzically.

"Exactly. That's when I defy rationale thought. Think of it as a power-up state."

"I'm shocked. I didn't know you had that sort of foolhardiness in you." It was true. While she knew Kyouya had in his possession the fortitude of a ruthless businessman when need be, she had definitely not expected this… _abandonment_… of his logical reasoning faculties.

"I haven't displayed it at all, believe me. If I did, you'd know, Miss Observant." He inched closer. "Besides, I've only had my heart set on one solitary thing."

It was awkward. She was cognizant of what it was that he was referring to and for the life of her she knew she should not even turn to look at him for fear that the palpable discomfiture in the room would leap at their throats, but she could not resist a glance. His hand slipped past her forearm and seized her fingers, stroking them.

"Haruhi…"

She sensed some vulnerability in his tone.

"I… I just want you to be cared for." He brushed his lips over her fingertips then released them. "Naturally, I want to be the one that does it."

"Aa-aahh." She paused, collecting her scattered thoughts from the events that had transpired moments ago. "Well, you're insane."

"Crazy about you." He dazzled her with a dashing quirk of the lips.

"Oh have it your way. I don't suppose I can do anything to stop Ootori Kyouya once he's set his mind on something."

"_Heart_, Haruhi. _Heart_. You're not paying attention." He tapped her nose and rose, straightening the creases in the fabric of his pants.

"You're turning into Tamaki-senpai. You really need to do something about that."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I thought you liked Tamaki."

"In moderation."

He walked towards the door and slid it open. "Actually, you probably need to attend to him."

"I can imagine. After your shocking announcement, I'm surprised he's only nursing fungi with my bedding." She massaged her temples nonetheless.

"Better rescue your linens then, Haruhi. I don't think a musty smell would go down well while we're in the midst of coit--…"

"KYOUYA!"

He laughed as she sputtered. It had not occurred to her that he would not permit partaking of such stimulating activities next to Ranka in her very own apartment. He silently congratulated himself on a job well done. She was easy to derail if one really got down to it. It was merely a matter of identifying her buttons. Judging by the virgin stain of indignation on her countenance, he had stabbed at the right ones, in a manner of speaking.

As he stepped out, he spied Mori out of the corner of his eye,

He adjusted his glasses briskly. "Mori-senpai."

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**Author's Note(s):**

I'm probably quite mean smacking my readers back and forth between these awesome bishounen, but I can't seem to do anything about it. And it's a shorter than usual chapter than my recent ones have been... only because I felt it was appropriate to stop here while I ponder my next move.

Current mood: Loving Kyouya. I'm sure you can tell.


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